Feeling Complete
by Darkeyes17
Summary: 5th Arc in the 'Feelings Series.' Prowl and Jazz. Two mechs that came to love, suffer, hope, and live, to have a bond that lasted through all that life throws at them. Prequel, behind the scenes and epilogue of this series. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here we go! The FIFTH Arc to the Feeling's series. It's been one long and wild ride! We hope you enjoy this.**

**Rating: T (for now)**

**Verse: Pre-Earth G1 for this chapter.**

**Warnings: Slash/kissing.**

**Disclaimer: **Yeah yeah, we don't own TF's.

**And a HUGE thank you to the wonderful, the inspiring, the hilarious, KATEA-NUI! My faithful RP buddy. Couldn't have done this without her. **

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><p><strong>Feeling Complete – Chapter 1<strong>

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><p>It was official.<p>

He was bored.

Which is never a good thing on a ship like the Ark. With a crew like the Ark's. And when you were Third in Command, Prankster King, Saboteur Extraordinaire and the like. He was really itching under his plating to go prank up someone's quarters. Or maybe set up a new camera. Ratchet was off limits today, seeing as he was stuck fixing Wheeljack... again... so harassing Red Alert sounded like fun.

Huh...

No wonder the Security mech was twitching and glancing at him like that. He had read the signs, noted the easily harassable mechs in the room and came to the proper conclusion. Smart mech.

Jazz grinned and nearly laughed at the violent twitch Red Alert gave.

And then Ratchet, Medic of the Pit and somehow psychic fragger that he was, had to spoil his fun.

:- Jazz, I swear if you send Red Alert down here, I'll have your skidplate welded to the rec room ceiling! -:

:- ... How'd ya - -:

:- Because I know you Jazz, and I'm not in the Officer's meeting to play decoy today. -:

:- Way ta break mah spark, Ratch. -:

There was a snort over the private comm. :- Be good. -:

:- Whatevah ya say, Ratch... -: There was a distinct pout in the saboteur's tone.

"I would also like to remind everyone in the room that our new Second in Command will be docking in a decaorn." Optimus Prime's voice broke into Jazz's thoughts and suddenly his attention was completely riveted.

"New SIC?"

"Ah, that's right, you were away on a mission last meeting." Optimus turned to him, considering. "I have found a replacement for Gearwreck that I believe to be suitable."

A grin curved over Jazz's faceplates. "Ya don't say, Prime."

"He's a survivor of Praxus and is head tactician. I'm sure you've heard of him. His name is Prowl," announced the Autobot leader.

"Yes!" hissed Red Alert in victory.

Jazz looked confused and he asked, "Eh...who?"

Optimus chuckled and said, "He keeps himself low profile, which explains why you haven't heard of him Jazz. Very punctual, organised, intelligent and is very good with sanctioning within the ranks."

"Does that mean he's a tight aft?" asked Ironhide with a guffaw, earning a frown from the Prime.

"Those are cruel rumours you echo, my friend," chided the red and blue mech.

Ironhide had the grace to look chastened... at least a little.

"So he's Praxian..." Jazz echoed slowly. "Well, says a lot about 'is work ethic."

Red Alert, leaning back in his chair and actually looking smug for once, grinned. "Prowl is far above your average Praxian. He was a Chief Enforcer before they were rendered disbanded. Luck is on our side that he was one of the few un-corrupted in the ranks. Primus have mercy on us if he had been swayed to the Decepticons."

"Ya know him, then?" Jazz asked.

"I worked with him once," Red Alert shrugged. "He's iron clad in his work ethic, a brilliant strategist and equipped with one of the most advanced battle computers and logic centres you'll ever bear witness to."

"Interesting..." Jazz mused, leaning forward and contemplating. "Ah can't wait ta meet 'im!"

* * *

><p>Prowl looked out the transport window as they came in to dock at Iacon. The city was very grand, one of the last pinnacles of what Cybertron had been like before the war. It was pretty. But nothing like Praxus.<p>

Being transferred onto the Ark, situated in the sky docks, was a great privilege he knew. It meant that he would be working with the top officers for the whole Autobot army. It humbled him that the great and fair Optimus Prime thought him to be worthy of the position of second in command as well as head tactician. Absently, his fingers drifted to his arm panel, tracing the words that were etched into his metal skin.

'To protect and serve.'

"We will be docking within the next to breems sir. Optimus Prime welcomes you in advance," said his diversionary tactician.

Nodding, the red chevroned mech replied, "Thank you Smokescreen. Your help is invaluable."

Smokescreen grinned at him, his doorwings relaxing slightly. "Feels good to be doing something."

Prowl considered Smokescreen's words before he nodded curtly. A small chuckle from the orange and blue mech was what he got before Smokescreen moved back to the front of the ship to monitor their progress.

While on the outside he was calm and almost devoid of emotion, inside Prowl's tanks felt as if they were ready to purge from the ever growing nervousness as the docking station loomed closer in the window. All around him, mechs were whispering, some casting glances his way in disbelief or a little contempt. 'Emotionless Fragger' they called him. 'Sparkless' and an assortment of other names that the mech found to be quite hurtful. Yet, he ignored them, focusing on the fact that the Prime found him worthy enough to help lead the Autobots in their campaign to defeat the Decepticons.

It was a fact that was still being absorbed for him.

"Hey look, that must be Prime," Smokescreen pointed out, interrupting the tacticians thoughts.

Looking out the window once more as they pulled in to the dock, Prowl saw a large mech, blue and red and grey with the Autobot symbols emblazoned brightly on his shoulders. His optics looked welcoming and kind, although his pose spoke of great power held within. Next to him stood a bulky red mech with large cannons on his arms. No doubt this was Ironhide, the famed Weapons Specialist. On his right, where the SIC would usually be, was a black and white mech with a gleaming blue visor, smirking.

They looked like an intriguing group.

Standing without a word, the black and white made his way to the portal, holding himself proud and dignified for his first meeting with his Prime, Smokescreen falling into step behind him. The door opened and a ramp extended.

Venting deeply, Prowl arched his doorwings high and strode confidently down the ramp.

He neared the Prime, saying nothing until he was in front of the great mech, before bowing and introducing himself. "Optimus Prime, sir. I am Prowl, head tactician and former enforcer. Appearing with me is my diversionary tactician Smokescreen. We thank you for this honour you have given us."

"Rise," rumbled Optimus.

Behind his facemask, he was smiling. The Matrix had pulsed to him that this mech was perfect for being the SIC of his army. As the black and white mech rose, he held out a hand. "I am Optimus Prime."

Prowl stared at the hand, his surprise hidden behind his mask. Slowly, he reached out and took it, the strong grasp closing around his servo. "Thank you, sir."

"As I see it, Prowl, we have you to thank for the survival of Hexia's Alpha Base. From what I have been told, you were up against Shockwave."

Jazz and Ironhide both stared in awe at that. Neither had been told.

Prowl simply inclined his head, a short, sharp nod. "Shockwave made mistakes that I was able to exploit."

Prime's smile under his mask grew. "Be that as it may, you saved several mechs and femmes." He turned to gesture at his two companions. "This is Ironhide, my weapons specialist and Combatant Officer." Ironhide stuck out a servo which Prowl took, the exchange of formalities short. "And this is Jazz, Third in Command and Head of Special Operations."

Jazz held out his servo next. "Pleasure, mech. Been hearin' a lot 'bout ya."

Prowl merely inclined his head, offering no comment.

"Jazz has offered to show you and Smokescreen around the base, and then you are to report to Ratchet for a check-up," Optimus Prime said, standing tall.

Jazz grinned. "Alright mechs. Ya heard OP! Let's move out!"

Smokescreen, a large grin on his face, was quick to follow, Prowl a bit hesitant over the mech's obvious lack of formalities.

There was no question in his processor. This would take a lot of getting used to.

Ironhide stood with his Prime and long time friend. "Stick up the aft, that one."

Optimus stared at Ironhide. "He just needs to adjust."

"If ya say so, Prahm. If ya say so."

* * *

><p>"...and here are Smokescreen's quarters. Ya will be bunkin' with a mech called Tracks. Hope ya're tolerant, cos he can be a handful with his vanity," Jazz said, tapping on a door and databursting the code for the room to the colourful Praxian.<p>

They had already seen most of the Ark. Now all that was left was the rec-room and the quarters.

Smokescreen smirked. "I've handled worse. I'll see you later."

Jazz waved goodbye and turned to the other Praxian mech and grinned at him. "Time to show ya to your quarters Prowl. It's next to mine, and ya are adjacent to Prime. Ironhide's opposite ya, and our security director, Red Alert, is opposite me."

"I was wondering why he was not here to greet us today," Prowl mused softly.

"Well, technically, that's none o' ya business yet," Jazz replied, but there was an edge of steel in his tone to display his irritation. Did the new SIC honestly expect every mech to be present for his arrival?

Prowl ignored the tone and said, "No. It merely would have been nice to see a semi-familiar face."

The saboteur immediately kicked himself for thinking bad of the Praxian. Of course the new mech would be nervous. Being on the Ark was a whole new rocketball game.

"Yeah, I guess so. He's actually in the marketplace today as it's his first day off in the past 20 orns. He's dedicated," Jazz answered.

They finally reached Prowl's new quarters, the visored mech opening the door with a flourish and showing the mech inside.

Prowl froze, stunned at the amount of space they allocated him. A large spacious living room with couches perfect for his frame type, and two doors on the side. One led to a specious washrack, and the other a comfy looking berth room. "This...this must be some mistake," he stammered. "This is too grand...we must be in Prime's quarters by mistake."

Jazz leaned against the doorjamb in amusement. "Nope, mech, s'all yers. Primes are bigger."

Prowl turned to him with a disbelieving look on his face. He didn't need to say anything for Jazz to know he was waiting for some kind of punch line. Too bad. It wasn't coming.

"So these are yer quarters. Need meh to show you to the rec room? Or would ya rather stay and settle in?"

Prowl shook off his surprise, gathering himself quickly to cover up his lapse of personal self. "No, no, I would like to view the rec room, please."

Jazz grinned, "Sure thing. Follow meh!"

* * *

><p><em>In the rec-room<em>

As soon as they entered, Prowl had to fight the urge to flee. His sensitive doorwings, so used to the relative peace of Hexia Alpha, were ravaged by the boisterous noise of off-duty mechs and the music playing from a corner. He froze, waggling his doorwings to dissipate the pressure and muted his sensors, as loathe as he was to do it. The sensors were important to how he moved, to see if there was anyone behind him or not.

"C'mon mech, time to meet ya bots yur gonna command," prompted Jazz, beckoning to him.

Hesitant, not missing the immediate dialling down of noise as he fully stepped into the room, the Praxian followed the TIC, keeping his optics focused on the back of the saboteurs helm. To look anywhere else would be foolish.

When he slid into a both opposite the other black and white, the whispers began.

Prowl knew without a doubt if he had his full range of doorwing sensors, he could have been able to sense a lot more than what he did.

'I hear that's the most brilliant tactician in the entire Autobot army.'

'Heard he was cold-sparked slagger...'

'Doesn't show a shred of emotion-'

'I was told he doesn't have any-'

'A drone with a super computer is what I heard-'

Prowl had learned to ignore all of these. He had received the wrong kind of attention, starting with his genitors as a sparkling. He was used to it and knew how to deal with it.

Jazz on the other hand, listened to everything that was said and considered the mech in front of him. He was standard, maybe just as tall as himself. Elegant, his paint job mirror yet opposite his, the black and white switched around. His large doorwings were held stiffly behind him, not even a quiver, which he found odd. Most Praxians he had encountered in the past often allowed the appendages to twitch and move, broadcasting their emotions freely. He was curious and wanted to ask, but with such a stoic looking mech who merely looked at him expectantly, he didn't know what boundaries to test yet.

Still, the whispers bothered him.

"Y'know, if ya think this is too soon, we can leave," offered the visored mech graciously, with his usual charming smile.

Tilting his helm to the side, Prowl said, "I'm not quite sure what you mean Jazz. Isn't the point of bringing me here to get me into the public optic of those who I will command? No, I think not."

Jazz had to give the mech credit for being stubborn enough to wait it out. His smile turned more genuine, and he said, "Don't worry Prowler. They'll get used to ya eventually."

The Praxian frowned, and then there was a sign Jazz was waiting for. His doorwings twitched.

"I believe Prime introduced me properly to you, so why you would get my designation wrong is unthinkable. My name is Prowl, not Prowler," murmured Prowl, his light blue optics confused and wary.

Jazz grinned. "It's a nickname."

Prowl's optic ridges both rose fractionally, but otherwise his expression remained unchanged. Cold, even. Nobot who wasn't trained to notice minute differences on mechs would not have seen any change, but that was what Jazz excelled at. That and sneaking... And being an annoying little slagger if Ironhide or Ratchet were to be believed.

"I was under the impression that one must know another on a deeper scale before a nickname was applied. You and I have barely known each other a few joors."

"True, Prowler," was all the saboteur said, still grinning like a loon.

The new Second in Command's frown deepened just the tiniest bit. "I was also under the impression that the point of a nickname was to shorten one's own designation. My name is Prowl, and is therefore only one syllable. 'Prowler' contains two, therefore _lengthening _my designation. How is that logical?"

"Well, I dunno, _Prowler_. You tell meh." Jazz's grin widened. He was enjoying himself immensely.

"Please stop that," the doorwinger intoned flatly.

Under his visor, Jazz's optic ridges shot up in glee. Oh ho! This mech easily became annoyed. New fodder. He could see many an orn finding the ins and outs of this mysterious mech's processor.

"Tell ya what. Ah'll only stop the orn ya actually get along with more than half the crew. Sound good Prowler?" Jazz teased.

"Stop," demanded the chevroned mech, and it gave a strange thrill to Jazz to hear an growling undertone in that smooth tenor.

"Nope. Not gonna," replied the saboteur. "Ya know why? Because ya deserve more than coming to a base filled with rumours after ya've been hand-picked by the Prime himself. It's pretty big. So...Ah'm offering my nicknames and a friendship."

Prowl's gaze turned wary again. Other, lesser mechs than Jazz had tried the same trick on him. Asking to be friends only to want something from him. What, he didn't know, because his 'friends' never told him. He was new, and therefore vulnerable. The mech before him was head of special ops and his tactical computer told him that there was a 98% chance that Jazz knew how to play mechs.

But was he going to? Would he take another chance this time? Would he be hurt once more?

The grinning saboteur held out his hand.

With great trepidation, Prowl took it.

* * *

><p><em>Several Vorns Later<em>

"Jazz, please remove yourself from my chair," Prowl said calmly, having gotten up to file something only to turn back around to see a grinning saboteur in his seat, pedes on his desk.

"Nah, don't think I will, Prowler," the TIC grinned. " 'Sides, Ah ain't got anywhere else to hang before Ah 'officially' return from recon."

"There are your quarters."

"S'too borin' in there!" Jazz sighed in mock distress. "Ah need something to keep meh entertained!"

Prowl scowled at him. "Please refrain from using my person as your source of entertainment."

The saboteur snickered, mock-leering at his friend. "Careful what ya say, Prowler. Some mechs might think yer offerin' something."

A confused expression crossed Prowl's face. "Offering? I do not believe my words implied more than what I said Jazz. Just what would I be offering other than my irritation?"

"Why, ya body of course," Jazz joked with a grin, winking his visor at his friend.

Prowl frowned. "What, using my body for parts? Why would any mech find that entertainment? That is extremely...extremely illogical." His processor was whirring now, finding 'body' and 'used for parts' to be an antonym to 'entertainment,' and thus illogical. He fought the tactical computer with all his strength. He had been doing so well against it lately, and that was saying something considering he was friends with Jazz.

The Praxian twitched his wings in annoyance as the visored mech chuckled. "Yeah, some parts they would use," replied Jazz.

"I don't know what you mean. You are confounding me. What parts? What is entertaining about this?" asked Prowl, crossing his arms.

There was a new look in the saboteur's visor, and the humour subsided and became thoughtful. "Prowl...tell me ya're jokin'. Can you seriously not know?"

"Not know about what!" hissed the doorwinger, clearly at the end of his tether.

Jazz shook his helm with a sigh. "Prowl…ya ever heard about interfacing?"

The chevroned helm shook from side to side. "I've heard it mentioned, but the only term for interface I know of is for data programs. I don't understand why this is so prevalent in mech conversations. They always laugh and smile about it too," he mused thoughtfully, missing the gobsmacked expression on the other black and white's face.

'Oh dear Primus,' Jazz thought, 'Ah have to give 'the talk' to my best friend.'

"Ya mean ya never asked yer carrier or creator where little bitty bots come from?"

Prowl's face immediately hardened into a mask that Jazz knew to be his emotional block. "My genitors and I hardly ever spoke, let alone for me to ask any sort of questions. And mechs come from Vector Sigma, Jazz. That is common knowledge."

Jazz groaned, his helm smacking Prowl's desk with enough force to clang loudly and make Prowl's doorwing twitch with the feedback. "PLEASE tell me yer jokin' and only tryin' to make me make a fool o' mahself!"

"Jazz, I am quite sure I do not know what you are talking about, but please remove yourself from my desk so that I may continue to work."

Seeing an opportunity to avoid an awkward discussion, Jazz jumped on it. Besides, he could always mention it to Ratchet later and let the 'Good Doctor' take care of it. After he was done laughing his aft off. "Sorry, no can do Prowler. Ah know that yer supposed to be off duty right now and Ah ain't watching you work yerself into stasis... again."

"You do not need to watch, Jazz," Prowl replied pensively. "You have your own quarters."

"Actually, not today. For some reason Wheeljack managed to blow up my quarters, but not yurs or Prime's. Sooo...it's here or nothin'," replied the visored mech.

Sighing, the chevroned mech asked, "So you're going to watch me work?"

"Yup."

"How did Wheeljack even manage to blow himself up this time?"

Grinning again, Jazz replied, "Oh, he wanted to see if his damage was lessened if he was working on something in his lab and it managed to blow up. So he was doing a handstand while he was working. Turned out he got damaged a heck of a lot worse."

Prowl stared. "He was...doing a handstand."

"Yup!" crowed Jazz, hoping his friend would find this funny.

He was proved wrong when suddenly Prowl's optics went blank, his body went limp, and he crashed to the floor.

For a moment, Jazz just stood there, staring at the 'offline' form of his friend before bursting into hysterics.

See, Prowl had a funny rod in him.

The hysterics petered off, and then he glanced at the still pretending Prowl. "Alright, Prowler, you can get up now. Ah admit the mental image wants to make meh faint too."

Prowl didn't move.

"Aw, c'mon, mech, yer not foolin' anybot."

The room remained silent, Prowl still crumpled on the floor.

"Prowler?"

Silence. Not even a twitch of a doorwing.

"Prowl?" A note of unease crept into the saboteur's tone as he stood and went to the mech... who was really offline with overheating systems if his scan indicated anything. His tank dropped out of his abdomen.

_'Ah, frag'_

:- **RATCHET**! -:

:-What?-: replied the medic.

:-Ah think I broke Prowler! Ah thought he was jokin', but he's still and overheatin' and Ah don't know what to do!-: yelled Jazz, freaking out. He'd never seen anything like this before.

Ratchet merely sighed over the comm. line. :-Calm down. I think I know what this is. Bring Prowl here and I'll set him to rights.-:

Jazz nodded, completely forgetting that the medic couldn't see him, before cutting the comm. line and kneeling on the floor. Hooking an arm under the legs and his other around the shoulder, making sure to be careful of those sensitive doorwings, the saboteur lifted the Praxian up, finding that Prowl was quite light for his frame size. It gave him little ease. What had he done to make Prowl to react in such a way?

He hurried down the halls, ignoring the odd looks from passerby that he was carrying the SIC in his arms.

Looking down at the blank face, Jazz felt guilt. The poor mech, offline and overheating. Right now the doorwinger was acting like a warm blanket, warming his plating where they touched.

_Sometime Later..._

"Alright, he should be good to go as soon as wakes up although he'll probably have a splitting processor ache," Ratchet sighed, unplugging the diagnostic machine from the link up on Prowl's neck. "That and he needs some serious recharge... Fragger's almost as bad as Red Alert."

Jazz wilted in relief where he stood to the side. Whatever he had done hadn't left any serious damage then. And then Ratchet wheeled on him.

"Alright you. What the frag did you say to him?"

Jazz blinked at him, a quick flicker of his visor. "Ah'm sorry, what?"

"What did you say? In clear words. You blew a few relays in his Logic Centre." The calm belayed the storm as the saying went.

"Er...well, Ah was tryin' to get him to laugh, and Ah joked about a statement he made to me and how it could be construed as 'wrong,' like interfacing wrong, and it turns out the Prowler has no idea what interfacin' even **IS**-"

"He doesn't?" Ratchet broke in, highly surprised. He made a note to inform the Praxian about it.

"Yup. Ah didn't wanna explain it, tellin' myself Ah'd tell ya, which Ah have...uh...and yeah, after that, Ah started talkin' about why Ah was in his office and Ah told him that Wheeljack..." Jazz's voice trailed off into a mumble, which prompted the red and white mech to whack him over the head with his wrench in frustration.

"Ah! Okay, okay. Jeez mech. Ah told Prowl that the reason why my quarters are unliveable for the next orn is because Wheeljack made something blow up while doing a handstand to see if he could lessen the damage!" blurted the saboteur, clutching his aching helm.

Ratchet stared.

For such an intelligent mech, Jazz could be so stupid and dense.

He could pardon it by saying Jazz didn't know of the glitch, but it stands to reason that the visored mech should have known.

"You slagging fool," said Ratchet, gathering up his famous temper.

"What's so wrong with a joke!" Jazz demanded, covering his helm with his arms in case a wrench homed in on it... especially his sensitive audio horns.

"Do you read ANY of your fragging reports!" Ratchet's voice had risen again. "Don't answer. That was rhetorical question!"

Jazz snapped his mouth shut again.

"If you _did _bother to read any of them, you would know that our workaholic, bar-up-his-aft SIC has a processor glitch because of his fragging logic center and battle computer!"

Jazz glanced at Prowl in alarm. "He has a glitch?"

"His logic centre is extremely advanced and it was installed into him at a young age _untested_. It's left conflicting signals in his relays and logic functions. Anything that seems extremely illogical will fry circuits. That Wheeljack stunt you pulled just now sent his already overworked, undercharged processor into a lock-up."

The saboteur stared down at his offline friend. Glitches in their society were common enough that everyone knew about them, but rare enough that only the higher functioning cases were allowed to be in jobs of any precedent.

All the things the mech had to go through...

"Don't you dare turn on him because of this. You're the first real friend he's ever had you know," Ratchet threatened, waving his wrench in front of Jazz's nasal ridge.

Frowning at the medic, Jazz replied, "Ah thought ya knew me better than that. Ya know Ah have nothin' against glitches. Ah just...ah just don't understand why he wouldn't tell me himself. Ah mean, we've been pretty good friends for a little while now. Once ya crack his shell a bit, he is a really nice mech." Seeing Ratchet back down, the visored mech looked back down to Prowl. He reached out and gently stroked along the side of the faceplate, smiling, and turning to Ratchet. "Comm. me when he wakes up. A friends gotta be there for his mech, doesn't he?"

Smiling warmly - a contrast to his earlier temper - Ratchet said, "Of course."

Later on, Prowl awoke, fully expecting to see Ratchet there with a datapad to detail his systems. It was discombobulating, therefore, to have the grinning face of a certain saboteur above him, saying brightly, "Rise and shine sleepin' beauty!"

The berth actually prevented Prowl from flinching back in his surprise, but he still flinched.

Not many actually enjoyed coming out of a forced shut down to see grinning faceplates only a foot or so from their own.

"Jazz," Prowl said, tone measured and aware of exactly what had happened. "Would you mind moving your face so that I may see Ratchet? Unlike Mirage, you can't turn your face invisible."

Jazz stared down at him, the grin morphing into a gape. Then he swung himself away and dramatically clutched at his spark. "Ratchet! Mah poor spark! It's goin' into an attack! Prowler made a funny!"

Feeling his helm throb at his friend's exuberance, Prowl muttered in confusion, "I was only stating a fact."

"Hush you," Ratchet berated Jazz, coming into the tactician's view at last and frowning down at him. "Prowl, I know you've been doing fairly well as far as your crashes are concerned, but I must do some checks."

As soon as they were done, Prowl left, saying he had some paperwork he needed to catch up on. He didn't look once at either Jazz or Ratchet as he did so, his doorwings held high and almost too stiff as he left.

The black and white looked worriedly at the medic. "Ah thought he cleared it for today. He can't have that much to do already! Ya think...ya think he's really uncomfortable after glitchin' out in front of me Ratch?"

"Bingo," said the medic, leaning back on a berth and crossing his arms as he stared at the medbay doors in his musings. "If I know Prowl, and I know him fairly well, he's going to try and avoid you. He's feeling insecure, worried, and fearful that you will reject him as a friend. When he really sets his mind to it, Prowl can be one of the most difficult mechs on the Ark to locate if he doesn't want to be found."

"Ya kidding?"

"It took me a decacycle to track him down for a tank flush once," answered Ratchet with a grin.

Jazz stared at him. _'Frag_.'

It was several metacycles later, almost a full month, before Jazz had finally managed to corner the Praxian. Ratchet hadn't been kidding when he had said that the SIC could be a slippery slagger when he wanted. He had used all manner of excuses, resources and the occasional 'necessary' visits to outposts.

If it hadn't been for the large contingent of Decepticons attacking Iacon, Jazz might still be playing this dance with his friend. He had never been so grateful for a fight before.

"You are one hard mech to pin down," Jazz said levelly, the undercurrent indicating his irritation well.

Prowl, to his credit, didn't flinch, but his doorwings did lower a fraction and the saboteur had to remind himself to be less irritated... Which he was, but he guessed that Prowl had been feeling like the lowest mech on Cybertron for the entire time.

"Jazz. What do you need, I am busy." His voice was controlled, cold. Considering that the Spy Master had him backed into a corner (literally), he didn't blame him.

"Ah need ya to talk to me," stated the saboteur plainly, smirking when the other mech scowled.

"We are," retorted the tactician.

"No. This is a confrontation after me tryin' to talk to ya ever since ya glitched," replied Jazz, seeing Prowl visibly blanch at the mention of his processor crash.

"If this is about you not wanting to be friends with a mech such as myself, I bid you good day and I need your reports by the next orn," said Prowl, his emotionless mask easily slipping into place as he tried to hide his hurt.

Sighing, Jazz grabbed the other mechs shoulders and pressed him back to the wall to make sure he stayed there. He had quite a few things to say, and he wanted Prowl to hear them truthfully. "First of all, ya ain't goin' anywhere. Second, Ah didn't say anythin' about not bein' friends with ya. So if ya could stop bein' so stubborn, hear what Ah have to say," the visored mech said lowly, noticing the surprise in the Praxian's wide blue optics...they were kinda pretty like that. Satisfied Prowl wasn't going to interrupt, Jazz went on. "Ah know ya haven't got a fantastic track record so far as friends are concerned. But believe me, Ah wanna be yur friend. Like, forever. Ya're funny when ya don't mean to be, ya're always there to talk to me, even when ya're busy, and ya let me be there for ya. We get along great, and we're a great team too. So Ah don't wanna throw that away. Now, about this little glitch of yurs, that's all it is. A little glitch. It doesn't make ya a lesser mech because look at ya! Yur the SIC and lead tactician! It doesn't impede yur job performance one bit. Sure, it's inconvenient, but ya know what? There are mechs who're glitchier than ya, and everyone likes 'em all the same. So don't ya dare think Ah'd cast ya aside just for one flaw."

"But... I have a glitch - " Prowl began uncertainly.

"Mech, yah have trouble listening!" Jazz groaned. He fixed Prowl with an intense stare. "Red Alert has a paranoia glitch."

Prowl frowned. "Yes Jazz, I know. I have read every report on all under my command and I have worked with him several times."

"And Ah still call 'im friend."

Prowl regarded the mech pinning him to the wall, his optics swirling with all the emotions just under the surface of his mask. One only had to look. "You mean it."

Jazz grinned, hearing the finality and disbelief in the Praxian's voice. "Ya better believe it, mech. Ain't nobot more serious than meh." He stepped away, allowing Prowl his space. "We're not all complete afts."

The SIC's optics dimmed a little. "I see." Hesitantly, almost shyly, he held out his servo.

"Friends?"

The smile on the saboteur's face could have lit up a small star. "Friends," he said grasping the servo before pulling the stunned tactician into a hug.

* * *

><p><em>One Vorn Later<em>

Jazz nursed the dimly glowing cube of energon in his hands as he watched Prowl on the other side of the rec-room.

Something was bothering him about Prowl.

Not that there was anything wrong with Prowl. No, not at all, he was his normal rule abiding, workaholic, shy self. He had, however, managed to open up more to Jazz over the past vorn, where their friendship had grown in leaps and bounds. So much so that once, after a particularly bad mission into Darkmount, Jazz had felt safe enough in recharging with his friend - both for him not to hurt the Praxian and vice versa. It had kept his memory purges at bay.

So no, the mech himself or their friendship was not it.

But Jazz, the head of Spec. Ops., one of the best pranksters, morale booster, and Master Spy and Saboteur, couldn't put his finger on it.

For example, the one of the few times he had managed to drag the doorwinger to a party, a very drunk Bumblebee had tried to hit on him, much to Prowl's embarrassment. Jazz, however, nearly tore one of his best operatives apart for that – and for no reason! Other than, of course, Prowl being the innocent mech he was, had to be protected.

And he noticed the little things. Like how those high, proud wing panels would flutter ever so slightly when he came near. It was a sign that pleased him, made him smug to know that he was one of the select few who Prowl moved his doorwings for. And the way the Praxian walked, so full of grace, his hips swinging lightly from side to side.

What was it about Prowl that intrigued him so? It was driving his processor mad trying to figure out what it was.

"Hey, Jazz!"

The saboteur glanced up at the approaching mech. "Hey Bee..." And then the mech behind him, "'Raj."

"Commander," the blue and white towers mech grinned. He and Bumblebee exchanged a quick glance full of knowing when Jazz's attention returned to Prowl.

"He's overworkin' 'imself again," the TIC mumbled, bringing the rest of his energon to his lips and downing it. "Ratch told 'im to take it easy on the work... Not hide out in the rec room wit' it."

"Prowl?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're thinking aloud again, Jazz," Bumblebee giggled.

"Was ah?"

"Yes. You have been...slightly distracted lately," murmured Mirage quietly, noting where the saboteurs gaze had returned.

"It's just the missions Ah'm thinkin' about." Jazz brushed the concern off easily, not noticing the second exchanged look his two best operatives did. Before either Mirage or Bumblebee could prod him further, another spec ops mech, Steamgust, came up to their table.

"Hello Commander, mechs," greeted the smaller mech.

The three murmured their own greetings, although Steamgust noticed that the black and white mech wasn't really paying attention. Like all Ops mechs were wont to do, such as their curiosity and sneaking abilities were, Steamgust looked in the direction that his Commander was and his own gaze fell on Prowl. At that moment, the Praxian dropped his datapad. Saying something to the mech he was talking to, the doorwinger stepped back, his doorwings facing the quartet of Ops mechs, and bent from the waist to retrieve it.

Steam gust whistled lowly. "Hot damn does that tactician have a nice aft! So shiny. Lotta things a mech could do with that, eh?"

Jazz's gaze snapped to the Ops minibot, lasering in on the wanting expression and feeling an indescribable wave of ... anger, wash through him.

"What?" His voice was quiet and all three mechs glanced at their commander, Steamgust looking extremely uncomfortable.

"I said he has a nice aft?"

"That is inappropriate talk, 'specially about yer commandin' officer. And Ah do not think that Prowl would appreciate you talkin' 'bout him like this."

"Uh..."

"You have duties, Steamgust," Jazz continued coldly. "See to them."

The little green 'bot held his hands up in surrender and hurried off, glancing nervously over his shoulder before disappearing out of the rec room door.

Bumblebee whistled lowly while Mirage smirked. "Whoa Jazz. Never seen you be that cold to any mech apart from the Decepticons. I think...you're a little jealous."

Jazz's helm jerked up, his visor searching the spy's optics intently, mouth set in a straight line. "Didja just drink a few cubes of high-grade? Ah ain't jealous of Steamgust. He's an operative. And as for his comment, it was really inappropriate. Prowler's SIC. He deserves more respect than some lower mech usin' him as some sort of playthin'. Mechs better than that."

"As in, you."

The saboteur was very tempted to slap that little smirk off the noble's faceplates.

"Ah'm his friend," he argued.

"Friends commonly become something more," Bumblebee chimed in.

"Not to mention there's that bet that's been going on for the past half a vorn that you two would get together. So if a few other mechs have seen it..." Mirage trailed off at seeing his commander's expression, in complete denial. But there, hidden behind that visor, was a glimmer of satisfaction.

"Yeah? Well tell any mech who's on that bet they're gonna be very disappointed. Prowler and Ah are just friends, and that's all."

"Whatever you say Jazz," Mirage grinned. It was amusing how a mech so in tune with the others around him could be so blind to the same signs in himself.

Jazz just shook his helm, firm in his belief that he and Prowl were merely good friends.

Still, the saboteur found himself wondering just what would it be like. To come back to his quarters after a long, hard mission to an understanding hug and cuddle? Or to soothe the pain of the doorwinger whenever lives were lost in battle? To wrap his arms around that thin, lithe waist and see their contrasting patterns of black and white pressed together, white to black and black to white...

He shook his helm again. No. He and Prowl were _friends_! He had never had a single romantic thought about the admittedly well framed Autobot SIC.

Well...maybe that one he had just then would count. So one! And only because he was _prompted _to. So what? He thought that other mechs were handsome. Like Mirage. Some would say he was handsome. Or Sunstreaker. His vanity was there for a reason.

His optics, without his consent, drifted back to the other black and white. For some reason, he couldn't help but let his optics rove over that form, taking it in...

To make sure Prowl was all right of course. What sort of friend could he be if he wasn't looking out for his Prowler?

A bad one.

So, he was being a good friend by checking the Praxian over, lingering on those stiff doorwings to see if there were any flaws or dents, over that aft to see if it had been inappropriately pinched by a mech with less than good intentions.

And it was in that moment that Jazz's optics widened under his visor and he hurriedly looked away, staring down at the table with something close to a laser sight...

Oh... Oh frag.

This... He didn't know what to think of this. When? WHEN?

When had he gone and fallen for his best friend?

There was something not right about this. Especially since all of Optimus' and Ratchet's and even IRONHIDE'S indulgent glances and quiet smirks aimed at him made a world of sense now. Did he... Did he stare like that _all _the time?

The Master Spy buried his face in his hands in mortification.

Slag... The only good thing about this was that Prowl was too inexperienced to have noticed. Count the little blessing as the saying went.

"Jazz?" The saboteur's head snapped up, his visor flashing in alarm to stare into the concerned faceplates of his superior, friend and apparently crush. Prowl had tilted his head to side slightly, trying to get a better read on his friend. Jazz inwardly cursed at himself for thinking the action _cute_! "Are you alright? You seem unwell..."

Putting on a reassuring smile, Jazz replied, "Just feelin' a bit tired, that's all. How was your day?"

Prowl may have been naive in a lot of things, but he knew when a mech was trying to derail him from a particular subject. Why his friend was trying to divert him, trying to lie to him, made him even more concerned. "Are you sure?" he asked, "you have been 'tired' for a while."

The saboteur winced, but kept his smile firmly plastered. "Nah, mech. Ah'm fine."

Huffing in exasperation, with a flick of his doorwings, the Praxian left. If Jazz wasn't in the mood to talk to him, then he would leave. Jazz watched him go, feeling instantly guilty at the mask that had seamlessly slipped over the doorwingers face as he left. And he had just shut up and sat here like an idiot while his crush left, disappointed. Slumping forward, he murmured, "Smooth, Jazz-man, smooth. Grade A work."

* * *

><p><em><span>A Metacycle later<span>_

"You are moping."

"I'm sorry?" Prowl glanced from the datapad he had been trying to concentrate on to look at Red Alert.

"You-" Red Alert pointed at his superior. "Are moping."

Prowl frowned. "I believe you are mistaken. I do not mope."

The security director shrugged. "Then you're upset over something."

An optic ridge raised. "What would give you that impression?"

"Because we've covered the same material three times now."

Prowl shuttered his optics slowly before he looked at his marked datapad. Oh. It already had notes. Prowl groaned inwardly. What was wrong with him? Oh, yeah, he remembered. Jazz hadn't spoken to him outside of work for the past metacycle...

Red Alert, as tentative as Prowl was with social skills, suggested, "I know that I am at my worst when Inferno and I have disagreements in our friendship. He's always trying to get me to refuel when I insist there is no reason for me to. When we don't talk to each other...it's not a feeling I would wish on anybot...perhaps such a situation has happened with you and Jazz?"

The Praxian sighed. He may as well talk about it to the security mech. He could keep secrets like no other. "He's been rather distant from me recently. It's odd...I haven't done anything to upset him that I know of, and when I try to find him to ask him what's wrong, he brushes me off. I...I don't...it-"

"It hurts," supplied Red Alert helpfully, and Prowl nodded.

"He promised me we'd be friends forever. Said he didn't care for any of my inadequacies..." he trailed off under the red and white mechs thoughtful gaze on him.

"I've heard rumours," began Red Alert.

"What rumours?" asked Prowl.

"Well, I think he's got this huge fixation on somebot. There's a rumour that he's exclusive now. Maybe that's why he's being distant?" It was the truth, but not quite. Red Alert may have paranoia attacks from time to time, but it in no way meant he was stupid. He knew who Jazz had his fixation on and he knew who he _wanted _to be exclusive with.

The problem was that the saboteur was used to flings. He didn't know how to deal with deeper feelings.

Same with Prowl.

Prowl loved Jazz. It was obvious to the Security Director, watching his love struck older brothers day in and day out. If they didn't hurry up and make their move, he was going to lock them in a closet with Ratchet. Seriously. The dancing around each other was getting annoying. Another problem was that while Jazz didn't know how to deal with deep feelings, Prowl was so awkward and insecure in everything but work that he didn't know how to work with emotions **at all**.

He watched the SIC's face harden into its mask, closing himself off emotionally. "Is that so?"

Red Alert nodded. "From what I hear. I've certainly seen signs to support it, but I think others are taking it too far."

"Hhmm. It gives no logical credence as to why he might be avoiding me..." Prowl mused aloud, while Red Alert stayed silent. He would let his superior stew over that for a bit, allow him to draw his own conclusion. After a few breems of silence, the Praxian continued, "Unless he felt that this possible relationship is blocked by our friendship...or maybe his words are just empty words and he never meant it at all."

The security mech was very tempted, in that moment, to facepalm. Leave it to Prowl to not consider the truth.

This meant he would need to bring out the big guns. While Prowl fell silent again, Red put a comm through to Mirage. If anybot could get Jazz to listen to them, it was Mirage and Bumblebee, Mirage more so because he was more experienced than the yellow scout. :: Mirage, this is Red Alert.::

::How can I help you sir?:: replied the Noble.

::It's a very personal and delicate matter,:: he warned.

::Understood.::

::I'm sure you've noticed Jazz's lovestruck behaviour. If you are as tired of it as I am, I have a mission for you.::

::Ah, I was thinking of that actually. I'm glad someone shares my sentiments. We need to get these two together.::

Red Alert fought to hide his smirk. ::Do what you can. If nothing is done soon, I think the chance may be lost before our commanders drift apart for good.::

::Yes sir, Mirage out.::

Once this was done, Red Alert turned to Prowl and said, "Jazz isn't that petty. He would tell you. I'm sure he's just doing the uncharacteristic thing and thinking."

"Yes," Prowl said quietly before suddenly straightening and repeating it louder, looking far more relieved. Apparently he'd come to that conclusion. "Perhaps he just needs space to think. I am hardly the mech to talk to about such things."

_'Preaching to the masses_,' Red Alert thought in amusement.

* * *

><p><em><span>A few orns later<span>_

Jazz's servo tightened on his ration, his optic trailing after the two Praxians crossing the room.

Again. Smokescreen was with him AGAIN! What the frag was that about?

"Ah, it looks like things are working out," Sideswipe said contentedly from his left, having been employed (unknowingly to Jazz) by his little brother, Mirage and Smokescreen to help out.

"Workin' out?" Jazz murmured in question, still watching as Prowl and Smokescreen chatted amiably. There was a little smirk on Prowl's lips, one he was accustomed to seeing only in privacy.

"Yeah, between Smokey and our resident stick-up-his-aft." Sideswipe ignored the glower on purpose. Just because Jazz was love struck didn't mean he gave up his opinions. "Mech came to me with his problem. Seems he's always had his optics on Prowl, but he just didn't know how to approach him. He certainly cared enough not to gamble everything with a night of passion. Me and Sunny helped him out."

"And how did ya do that?" the saboteur asked suspiciously, trying to tramp down the images in his processor of doing things that were very slow and painful to Smokescreen for even _thinking _things like that about Prowl. He was tempted to get Sideswipe too, but he couldn't blame him...entirely.

Shrugging, the red hellion said, "Reminded him he could always formally court Prowl. And tease him about his doorwings. You remember how we broke in Bluestreak? Well, Smokescreen remembered all the good things about being a Praxian in frame and plans to use 'em on Prowl. We were talking about him just touching the doorwings and..." Sideswipe fought hard to hide his grin as a low growl emanated from deep in the visored mechs chest. Looks like this plan was going all too well.

"Plans on goin' the whole hog with Prowl. Ya know, romancin', interfacin', maybe bondin'," Sideswipe went on. Now, he was hamming it up, but if it got Jazz moving faster, he'd toast himself with some high grade and a picture of a certain medic.

Jazz heard the words and felt something within him quiver with anger. Smokescreen didn't deserve Prowl! The mech was a gambler! Not to mention they would be completely incompatible.

"Pfft, as if they'd last," he said, trying to carry on a normal conversation.

"I don't know. Prowl and Smokey go back pretty far and they were friends before this. Not close friends, but Smokey knew about the whole glitch thing... And it apparently doesn't bother him. I think that's a big selling point to Prowl. Plus, from what Trailbreaker has been telling me, Smokey talks almost non-stop about Prowl on card nights. Mech's infatuated and it looks like Prowl is warming up." He gestured airily to the chatting mechs.

The cube in Jazz's servo made a cracking noise and his servo was shaking. Sideswipe sat up, pulling up a concerned face to act with. "Jazz, you okay buddy?"

"Fine," the TIC said shortly, standing and stalking off.

He missed the triumphant grin Sideswipe shot his brother across the room.

_Meanwhile, with the Praxians_

"Thanks for looking at this, Prowl. I appreciate it."

"No need to thank me, Smokescreen. Your theory is sound, and it would make a good contingency in the case of an emergency. I don't know why Red Alert hasn't looked at it yet."

"He's in the medbay."

"Oh?" Prowl looked at him, surprised.

"Passed out. Mech works himself to exhaustion. Not unlike a certain little brother I know..."

"Do not pull me into this." Prowl looked at his older brother flatly.

The orange and light blue mech shrugged. "Remind me again why we keep the fact that we're brothers secret."

"For the same reasons Red Alert and the Twins keep their own relationship quiet. The chances that you would be targeted are too high."

"Always knew you cared."

Prowl gave his older brother a flat look, and Smokescreen knew that there was care in those light blue optics. Shifting his gaze over to the side for a moment, he inwardly smirked. Yep, the plan was going along swimmingly. He was playing his part well. It looked like Jazz was going to come over and slag him just for talking to Prowl. As the saboteur left, looking furious, he turned his attention back to the other black and white.

"So, little brother, when are you going to find someone to care for you, hmm?" he asked.

The tactician turned his helm to the side, and this tiny, small smile crossed his face as he replied, a bit bashful, "Smokescreen, it is none of your concern."

"It is my concern. Ya need a nice warm frame to cuddle up with you and keep you functioning when I'm away," the yellow chevroned mech snickered, watching as the white faceplates heated in an endearing way.

"Promise not to tell, Smokey?" Prowl asked, voice so quiet and so uncharacteristically vulnerable that Smokescreen knew, without a doubt, that Prowl was serious and just a little afraid of revealing something that was kept so hidden, kept just as shielded as his real emotions. Smile dropping from his face, he nodded and replied, "If it means so much to you, brother."

Sighing, the younger mech admitted, "Truth be told, there's really no mech I can picture ever being with...except for...well...except for Jazz. He's been my friend for so long, the only one who really cares and..."

Prowl broke off as Smokescreen grabbed him and tugged him out of the rec-room until they were in his quarters. Once there, the older Praxian laughed in glee and hugged his brother to him excitedly. "I knew it! I couldn't be sure of course, but I had a suspicion and...oh Prowl, this is wonderful!"

The black and white Praxian stared at his brother in shock. "You knew? You... was I that obvious."

"A little," Smokescreen chuckled.

"Oh... Oh Primus! Do you think _that's _why Jazz has not been speaking to me?"

Smokescreen frowned. "Now wait just a klik..."

"It HAS to be! I've messed it up! I made a grave miscalculation and... mmf!"

Smokescreen had clapped a hand over his brother's mouth with a snort of amusement. "Now don't be going all Red Alert on me now. I like your glitch just fine. I know how to deal with that..." He pulled his hand away from the embarrassed Prowl. "Now I don't think that's why at all. And if it is then the slagger's not worth your time. Seriously. He still needs to pass the big brother test." His grin promised things that Prowl, if he was honest with himself, didn't really want to know.

* * *

><p>"They just went into Smokey's room," Bumblebee reported dutifully, having answered his commander's comm. "I don't see why it matters. I'd be happy if Prowl found somebody. He needs it."<p>

Something red flashed in front of the visored mechs optics as the news reached his audials. His spark seemed to coil in anger, and he felt a definite need for violence. Prowl, as far as he knew, was still an untouched mech. For Smokescreen to...to...before they even officially went out! How dare he? Prowl was probably confused, following Smokescreen's every instruction because he trusted the other Praxian.

What to do? Break down the door to rescue his crush from such a violation?

Or just...sit back and not interfere. Who was he to claim the graceful black and white doorwinger?

But...he wanted Prowl. The revelation may have only been a decacyle ago, but he wanted the mech. Wanted that lovely warm frame in his arms. Wanted to be the one to teach him about the most intimate act they could ever do...

He remembered what was most likely happening in Smokescreen's quarters right now.

Jazz snarled. No one was going to mess with HIS Prowler.

Stalking down the halls, the visored mech reached his destination in little time, panting from his anger as he heard soft voices talking with each other.

It ended now.

* * *

><p>The calming game of Overlord that he had coerced Smokescreen into playing came to an abrupt end.<p>

A very abrupt end.

There had been a knock at the door, loud and demanding and Prowl had shot a curious look at his brother who shrugged. "Probably somebody I forgot to tally into a bet."

That turned curious into disapproving, but Smokescreen was already up and across the room. He grinned back at his little brother before he opened the door... and immediately stumbled back with a surprised yelp of pain. A black fist had collided with his faceplates, sending him to the ground.

Prowl was up on his feet, ready to pull rank before his idiot sibling could get his aft beat, when a familiar form stepped in radiating fury and an intense intent to kill. "Jazz?"

The saboteur either didn't hear him or was ignoring him as he stood over Smokescreen, grabbing the mech by his collar armour. "I dunno what yer thinkin' of doin' to MAH Prowler, but I'm here to make sure ya think twice."

Prowl's spark gave a lurch as he heard the words 'my Prowler.' But before he could pay any attention to that, he gave out a barked cry as he saw his brother get slammed into the wall by the vibrating, angry form of the saboteur. "Jazz, drop him!"

Snarling, the visored mech turned his helm around to growl at the intruder into his 'bash Smokescreen' time, but he felt his ire decrease as he saw a very angry and confused Prowl, and (unwillingly), he released the elder Praxian to move to his friend/crush/love and check him over with his optics. "Where did he hurt ya Prowler? Ya can tell me," he said, voice low with restrained anger for the mech, slumped and moaning, behind them.

"He didn't hurt me at all! I don't understand," murmured the Praxian, his doorwings high in his shock. After a metacyle of Jazz not talking to him, now he wanted to save him from Smokescreen? For what?

Sighing, the saboteur reached a hand forward. For a second, it looked like he was going to cup the tactician's cheek, before the hand dropped to his shoulder. "Ah...Ah thought that he was bringin' ya back here to interface with ya. And...Ah know ya've never had any real idea about it and..." Jazz trailed off, feeling suddenly embarrassed by his impetuousness.

Smokescreen, still reeling, managed to be conscious to pull himself to the door, get out and lock it behind him. As awkward as that conversation was going to be, if they came out holding hands and will heated faceplates, it would all be worth it. He chuckled in his mind at the thought that anyone would think he and Prowl lovers!

Both black and whites didn't notice the colourful mech leave.

"Why would you think us lovers?" Prowl asked incredulously.

"Ya have been spending more time with him lately, ya always smile for him like ya smile for me, and he dragged ya in here! What was Ah supposed to think? And everyone was sayin' how it'd be good for you to have somebot and that Smokey was just right for ya and all," Jazz babbled, now feeling more embarrassed than ever. So much for the smooth rescue of the Praxian's innocence.

Oddly enough, Prowl smiled. A smile that turned into a soft laugh.

"What?" asked the visored mech.

Prowl shook his head in amusement. "Smokescreen and I are not lovers. Nor was he courting me, if that was how it appeared to you. We are in a relationship..." He cut of the growl with an upraised hand. "But not in the way you are thinking. Smokescreen is my older brother, Jazz."

There was a beat of silence where Jazz stood there in his shock, just gaping. "You... and Smokey...?"

"Are brothers, yes." Prowl chuckled. "It is only natural that we spend time with one another. Our sibling relationship has always been a strong one, which I am grateful for..." His voice became quiet. "Especially recently."

Jazz gave him a look of confusion. Was somebody messing with Prowl? Threatening him? He'd make sure they regretted it!

Prowl however was now looking at the floor. "I... I was afraid that you had stopped wishing to be my friend. You have been avoiding me and I have missed your company greatly..." His faceplates heated in the wake of his truth.

Jazz felt his spark contract under the quiet, saddened tone. "No, Prowler, no. Don't evah think that." Gathering his courage he moved his servo from the Praxian's shoulder to tip his chin up so he could stare his friend in the optics. "Ah'm a jerk for makin' ya feel like ah didn' want ta be around ya. Ah'm sorry. Ah... ah love you too much and the thought that ah might scare ya away..."

Hope bloomed in both the chevroned mechs spark and expression, but he had to ask. There was no way of being 100% certain otherwise. "How much?"

The question was incomplete, but Jazz replied anyway. He traced a thumb over the soft, white, untouched lipplates before he said, "Ah love ya. Not in the way a friend loves ya. But more. Ya know...that feeling when ya've been doin' the motions of somethin', and it's not till someone points it out that you realise what that motion was? That was me a little bit more than a decacycle ago. Ah didn't know how much Ah loved ya until Raj 'n' Bee showed me." It all tumbled out, soft, yielding himself to vulnerability.

Prowl smiled. It was what he had wanted to hear for some time. To know that he was loved, cherished. "You were a jerk. But I forgive you. I...I care for you in that way too."

Jazz's gaze flew to Prowl's face. "Ya mean it, Prowler?"

Prowl nodded, face flushed with a tint of pink, optics nervous. "I do. I think... I think I have for longer than I realized too."

The elated grin that grew on the saboteur's face threatened to spread to Prowl's own. He felt a tentative arm wrap around his waist and pull him closer, the hand on his cheek tilting his face up a little. He and Jazz were the same height, and he could see the faint outline of shining blue optics under the visor. "Ah really want ta kiss ya right now," Jazz murmured.

"Then do," the doorwinger whispered, optics trusting.

"But...ya've never done it. Ah don't want to scare ya off or make ya uncomfortable," the visored mech objected quietly, letting his fingers stroke the cheek seam.

"I trust you." The statement was so firm, a universal absolute. Jazz smiled, pressing their forehelms together, so close, so very close. All he needed to bridge the gap was to tilt his helm and press in. Prowl's optics shuttered and his doorwings fluttered in anticipation.

"Beautiful," Jazz whispered against the other's lips, and finally pressed in, lips seeking gentle contact with the ones they wanted. At the touch of lips to lips, a rush of warmth traversed both frames. It was soft, chaste, unerringly sweet. Prowl's doorwings fluttered once more, happily as he pressed into the contact, asking for more, to be taught. It was wonderful, having his love so close to him. His first kiss!

They both pulled away, slightly breathless and leaned their forehelms together. "Wow," Prowl said quietly.

"Ya said it, Prowler," Jazz chuckled, hugging him close.

"So, Jazz... Why _did _you think Smokescreen was trying to court me?"

"Ah, well, ah noticed that he was spendin' alot o' time 'round ya, and Sideswipe was sayin'..." And that was when he got it. "Oh, they're good."

"What?"

Jazz grinned and leaned in to place a little peck against the SIC's lips, revelling in the fact that he could. "Nothin' Prowler. It's nothin'."

And Smokescreen watched, pleased, with Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Red Alert, Mirage and Bumblebee in the security room as their two superior officers walked down the hall, servo in servo.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: OH MY GOSH! THIS HAS GOT TO BE THE LONGEST CHAPTER WE'VE EVER DONE! (or close to it).**

**That being said, we would both love it if you would review and let us know if you liked it. We really hope you like it because this Arc will (hopefully) fill in EVERYTHING that may have been in the other Arc's that wasn't ever really expanded on. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **We all know Prowl and Jazz got together. Now we jump to G1 on Earth where the 'Feeling Series' starts (from Feeling Alive). This will look at Prowl and Jazz and what they were doing the whole time in the other arc's. as well as show things that were not included in previous additions to this series.

There is a little bit of repetition, but we've added our own take to them.

There are also a lot of page breaks XD

**Rating: **Definitely NC-17

**Warnings: **Slash, smex of the sticky kind, violence, mpreg, implied unborn death, angst, hurt/comfort.

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own Transformers at all. Just playing with it.

**Not to mention a huge thank you and a round of applause to the amazing Katea-Nui, my co-author who is fantastic to RP with and is a dear internet friend.**

* * *

><p><strong>Feeling Complete – Chapter 2<strong>

* * *

><p>The Praxian sighed and rolled over again, his arm winding its way around his bonded. He couldn't recharge. Jazz, on the other servo, was out like a light. It had come very close this time. Thank Primus for Ratchet. That mech could work miracles... Even in the face of his own hurt.<p>

It was a very good thing Sunstreaker had stabilized when he did.

That still didn't take the weight away from his processor. It had been his plan that had positioned the golden twin on the ridge. He knew there was a chance that someone might target him, but he had been so secure in the knowledge that the chances were too low. 0.3% to be exact. Impossible odds.

Still, the impossible only had to happen once, and this once had almost cost them three mechs. Had Sunstreaker offlined, he would have taken Sideswipe with him. And in consequence, Ratchet would have followed, the broken bond un-mendable.

It would have been all his fault. His plan.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. Ratchet was a dear friend and confidante while the twins - troublesome and wild as they could be at times – were valuable to the Autobots and were good, decent mechs, regardless of their personality flaws. Everyone had at least one.

He sighed. If only he could just let the warmth of Jazz's body take him away.

The sound of a faint whirr reached his audials, and he stiffened as his bondmate came out of recharge, groggy.

"Babe...can't recharge?" the saboteur asked.

Prowl shook his helm. He sent a quick pulse over the bond, and immediately, Jazz understood. They shifted so that Prowl was more firmly tucked in his lover's arms, soft magnetic pulses emanating from black hands over the elegant doorwings in comfort. Jazz softly began to croon to Prowl, who sighed and clung tighter to him.

"They're not mad atcha, Prowler," Jazz sighed, tucking the tactician's helm under his chin and holding him tight.

"No," Prowl agreed, but that was it. It did not matter that they did not blame him. He blamed himself enough.

They lay like that for a while, the darkness of their quarters pressing in and wrapping around them like a foreboding blanket. It was all too easy to imagine what didn't happen in the deafening silence found here in the dark of Earth's night. It was why Mirage took nightly walks, or why the Twins wrapped themselves so thoroughly around Ratchet, or why Red Alert concentrated on his cameras.

And yes, the saboteur fully admitted to spying in his spare time.

He sighed again, realizing his own thoughts were not helping his mate any more than his words were. Well fine.

"We'll just have 'ta work on makin' ya forget."

And with that he pulled the startled mech up and into a kiss that quickly led to what it always did.

Losing themselves to the other.

* * *

><p>"So, the rumours are true?" Prowl asked expectantly. He, Jazz, Wheeljack, Red Alert, Ironhide, and Optimus all sat around the table, leaning forward in expectation as Ratchet looked so very anxious, and yet, ecstatic.<p>

"Yes. I'm sparked. With triplets," the medic replied, his voice turning practically giddy at the end of his sentence.

Jazz whistled lowly. "Damn, the twins must have zapped ya really hard to make ya get three."

Ratchet had the grace to look embarrassed. "Well, it was the most powerful three way merge we ever had. So...do I have your blessing?"

Optimus stood from his chair, silent, and walked over to the medic's seat, staring down at him. The optics above that facemask were inscrutable. Then he threw back his helm with a mighty laugh, before bending down and grabbing his CMO, hugging him tightly and spinning around once in a circle. "What a happy day it is for us all! New life brought into our ranks! The start of something wonderful!" he crowed. Ratchet looked slightly mortified.

The other officers chuckled at their leaders reaction. It was no secret to those present that Optimus had a soft spot for sparklings.

Prowl, however, felt the need to interject his logic. "We must increase security of course. And sparkling proof the Ark."

"More work..." grumbled Red Alert, banging his helm on the table. The rest of his sentence was muffled by the piece of furniture. "Trust my brothers to be the ones to give me more work." Despite the words, there was a note of happiness buried in his tone.

"Awww, Lil' Red's gonna be an Uncle," Wheeljack cooed, earning a glare from the security director.

"So are you. You're Ratchet's best friend so that makes you family."

"Yes, but I was the first to know aside from First Aid and Ratchet. So therefore, I am fully prepared."

"Your lab is off limits," Ratchet said quickly, snickering at the way his friend seemed to droop.

"Very well," the engineer said with a pout.

Prowl waited for the good natured congratulations to pass before continuing. "Well then, we shall have to begin right away if we want it done in time. Red Alert, I will assist you, along with Wheeljack and Skyfire. Now regarding Decepticon activity..."

The meeting went on and Prowl was aware of his mates concentration straying even though his visor was trained on him, although he couldn't address it right then and there. Ratchet was looking at Jazz amused, and Wheeljack looked like he wanted to snicker.

Therefore, it was only a partial relief when the meeting was over and they all exited the room, the twins instantly appearing to offer their mate an energon goodie and to whisk him away to their quarters. Red Alert shook his helm at his incorrigible older brothers and left for the security room. Prowl didn't need to turn his helm to know that Jazz was at his side. He could feel him. Slowly, they walked, their EM fields extending to mix with each others, the tactician allowing his doorwings to flutter and the visored mech smiling.

They reached their quarters, still quiet, and entered.

No sooner had Prowl locked the door when he felt warm arms wrap around him and pulses of warmth and love washing through him from his bondmates end. They were so in tune with each other, so connected, that Jazz didn't even need to fully voice his request.

"Can we?" he asked, retracting his visor and letting his sapphire optics shine hopefully.

"I..."

"What does ya computer say?" Jazz rephrased, putting it differently.

Inclining his helm, Prowl ran the scenario. After a few moments, he nodded his helm. "Safe enough."

"Ya sure ya want one? Cos Ah know Ah really want a sparklin' with ya, love. Ratchet's news only made me burn for it more," murmured the saboteur, nuzzling his sparkmate's neck.

"I... I've never given it much thought, you know I haven't but... I think I do," Prowl answered quietly, turning in Jazz's arms to look into his beloved's normally hidden optics.

The smile that lit Jazz's faceplates would have been enough to make Prowl give him anything in the world at that moment, regardless if he wanted it or not. He smiled softly in return and leaned in to kiss those grinning lips gently.

The kiss quickly turned passionate, one of Jazz's servos trailing up to cup the back of the tactician's helm and push him deeper into the kiss, Prowl offering no resistance to the searching glossa that eagerly entered his mouth to twine with his own. The other servo winded around to grope at a doorwing hinge, eliciting a surprised squeak from the Datsun.

Prowl pulled away with a breathless, "Now?"

"As good a time as any other," Jazz replied, reeling him in for another kiss, that was reciprocated with equal passion as the saboteur backed him towards their berth.

They tumbled gracelessly back on it, Jazz switching them around at just the right moment so Prowl wouldn't get his doorwings crushed. Without meaning to, the Praxian let out a faint whimper, and felt embarrassed immediately after. Crooning softly a few notes of a melody, the horned mech murmured, "Don't be afraid of the future love. We'll handle this well. Besides, there's no guarantee we'll definitely spark tonight."

Prowl nodded, leaning back down for another kiss, intending to sear this in his memory. His bondmate's hands guided him so that he was straddling the black pelvis with his thighs spread appetisingly to either side. Those same hands roamed his back plating, massaging into tense cables and toying with the few sensors under certain parts of plating. They travelled up, up, and to his doorwings, those wonderful magnetic pulses flowing over the sensors so softly, so sensually.

Breaking off from their kiss, Prowl breathed, "I love you so much."

Jazz smiled. "Ah love ya too sweetspark."

Pressing his helm into the crook of the neck, being careful to avoid scratching his lover with his chevron points, the Praxian found that cable that Jazz loved to be sucked on so much and lavished his attention on it, purring softly when Jazz's intakes hissed in the slowly building pressure.

"Ya tacticians fight dirty," teased the saboteur.

"You were the one to teach me," reminded the tactician with an indulgent smile, gently nipping over that sensitive cable.

"Ah was, wasn't Ah?" He could hear the grin in Jazz's voice as a set of digits wormed their way into a doorwing hinge to stroke sensitive bundles of wires, causing the Praxian to groan and grind into him.

Prowl's own servo sought out a sensory horn, tweaking it the same time he sucked and nipped at his lover's neck. The gasping hitch of Jazz's intakes made him purr and he relocated his mouth to kiss at parted lipplates teasingly.

"Mmm, think Ah'm a bad influence fer ya, Prowler."

Prowl chuckled. "You are only just now figuring that out?"

The visored mech fought to reply but a moan came out instead as his lover went back down to his neck for another tantalising lick over that line that Prowl went for each and every time. He gripped the sensor panels, making Prowl falter with his own moan.

_'Gotcha_,' Jazz thought deviously, attacking the flared door panels without mercy, mag pulses turned to their highest and fingers everywhere in their quest to bring the Praxian to the heights of pleasure. He was gratified to see his bondmate's optics white out for a few seconds, mouth open in a soundless moan in his bliss. Without knowing it, Prowl rocked his hips forward, their interface panels rubbing in a delicious friction over each other.

"J-jazz," panted Prowl, overwhelmed by the torrent of pleasure data feeding from his doorwings. He would overload too quickly if they were given any more stimulation.

Thankfully, his lover understood and slid his hands from doorwings to shoulders, lowering the pulses from his hands, only enough to relax muscle cables. When Prowl pressed into the touch, Jazz kept moving his hands slowly down, over the chestplates, feeling the spark throb (oh how he couldn't wait to be joined!), over the headlights teasingly and to the smooth plating of the abdomen. Every touch was a promise, every moan in return from the doorwinger an affirmation.

"Jazz!" And oh wasn't that gasp of his name exquisite.

The saboteur grinned up at his lover. "Reminds meh of that first time so long ago, Prowler. Ya said my name just the right way then too."

"Mmm," Prowl purred, white servos seeking sensitive seams in his lovers chest plating. "I think you said something about that then as well."

"What can Ah say? Ya burn mah circuits like no other."

"Are you implying that you've been with others since we've been together?" The teasing in the tactician's voice was challenging. Something Jazz couldn't very well ignore.

He pulled the ex-enforcer to him and their mouths met heatedly, glossae stroking out into a wild dance of passion. One black servo grasped at an equally black aft, tugging the warm plating closer and eliciting an aroused growl from his normally reserved lover.

Primus. Prowl wanted this as much as he did.

:~Wanna open up for me babe?~: the saboteur asked through their bond, not wanting their liplock to end just yet. He revelled in the taste in his lover.

Prowl's reply was wordless, his panel clicking open and allowing his interface components to be caressed with cool air, and then shortly after that, Jazz's fingers feeling gently around that slicked valve, that stiff, hot length of metal of a spike. The Praxian mewled, breaking off the kiss and gasping for air. "Want you," he whispered hotly, grinding down into those questing digits, hands grasping desperately for his bondmate. The saboteur never ceased to make him feel sexy and beautiful, never ceased to get him gasping for words as they shared pleasure.

"Ah know. Ah want ya so bad too. Remember the first time Ah took ya valve? Nipped the seal off with my denta and stroked your spike while Ah lined up and pushed through. So good and tight, babe," purred Jazz. When a particularly strong burst of lust reached him over their bond, he chuckled, struggling to keep his own resolve. Seeing Prowl in the throes of pleasure was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen.

Prowl mouthed over his shoulder, suppressing a moan as two fingers inched into his drenched entrance, teasing and tweaking the nodes they both knew so well. "Mmm."

"Still tight..." Jazz's delighted voice was breathless in his audio, the questing digits pressing deeper, drawing a whine of pleasure from the Datsun.

"It's my model," Prowl smirked, flaring his doorwings and arching his back.

Jazz's optics cycled wide and his engine revved aggressively. The little minx new _exactly _what kind of image he was presenting. "The funny thing Ah find wit' that particular statement, is that until Ah said anything to ya and Ratchet, ya had no idea what interfacin' was."

"And - ah - loved my naivety as much - mmm - as you loved te-EAACHING me! Oh JAZZ!" At this point, Prowl was grinding down on his lover's digits, a third one having wiggled it's way in and spread.

The sapphire optics that usually were hidden by his visor brightened as he replied, "Oh yes did Ah enjoy teachin' ya. So innocent ya were. And once Ah taught ya, ya were as enthusiastic as a petero bunny in heat."

Prowl's snicker was cut off when black fingers rubbed frantically over a node in the valve, making him arch back in an almost impossible bend and moan loudly. Jazz smirked. He loved seeing Prowl like this. Unrestrained and so _passionate_. The hot throbs of love and lust warmed his whole frame, not just his spark, and it made him think about what this effort was all for. The thought of a little sparkling running around their pedes...

"I-inside me. I want to feel you," breathed Prowl, cutting off the other mechs thoughts as he rolled his hips to feel more sensation, the three fingers stretching him out quite nicely.

"With pleasure," purred the saboteur, letting his hot, straining spike burst from his panel, hissing as the air felt like ice on his heated length. A bead of pre-fluid dripped from the tip and was caught by the doorwinger, who brought it to his mouth and licked it off.

"A move you taught me if I remember rightly," teased Prowl, panting as those fingers curled within him at the visual stimulus.

"Ya remember right." Jazz bit his lip as Prowl stuck his finger into his mouth once more and then pulled it out slowly with an audible pop. He released a shaky outvent. "Frag."

He removed his digits from within his lover, earning him a whine halfway between displeased and anticipating.

Jazz rolled gently, careful to make sure his bonded's doorwings were flat against the berth with no chance of damage, before he curled his servo under one white, _perfect _thigh.

Prowl's optics darkened as he allowed his lover to draw his leg up until his knee was hooked around the black pelvic frame above him. He pressed up eagerly, their spikes sliding against the others and they both gasped. Jazz growled and dove in, his denta clamping around his favourite cable in Prowl's neck and his spike pressing against the sensor rich rim of Prowl's valve.

White servos scrabbled at his armour, searching for purchase, a way to anchor themselves as the thick spike pressed in tortuously slow and struck every node each ridge came across.

"Nnn...Nnn...oooh," whined Prowl, ex-venting heavily as sensation burst across valve and his frame. His lover nuzzled into his neck in assurance, swivelling his hips around to make them both hiss.

"Move?" asked Jazz after a few moments.

"Move," confirmed Prowl, arching up as his bondmate begun an easy pace. It wasn't rushed. They were taking their sweet time, enjoying each thrust and the pleasure that went along with it. They panted, they moaned, and every now and then they would smile endearingly at each other. They shared sweet, tender kisses that evolved into fiery, passionate ones that threatened to break the control over their pace. Black and white servos never stopped caressing, teasing, touching each other intimately as the slick sounds of spike filling valve filled the room in symphony with their moans.

Jazz was the first to unlock his chestplates, the brilliance of his sapphire and white spark bathing them both and giving mysterious casts to their black and white plating, enhancing it.

"Sweetspark," he breathed, clutching the doorwinger closer to him and slowing his thrusts a bit. "Gonna do this...gonna do it now, Ah can't last."

Prowl gasped as his own chestplates parted and his spark cover retracted, Jazz immediately leaning forward to worship the spark and its surroundings with his glossa. Crackles of energy made his lips tingle, but Jazz didn't care. He worshipped the light blue and gold spark, marvelling in its beauty.

Prowl was beyond coherency, his entire chassis arching in a feline-like manner, pleas for Jazz pouring from his vocaliser along with wordless sounds of lust, desire and pleasure.

Jazz hummed in appreciation, the beauty of his bondmate striking as deep as it did any other time.

"Please! Jazz! Gonna over - PLEASE!"

Relenting to his lover's desperate plea, the saboteur re-positioned, staring down for one timeless moment into his bondmates optics before pressing down.

Their sparks immediately entwined, welcoming their other half with enthusiasm for the renewed bond as energy began to zip back and forth so quickly both of their processors were spinning.

:~Oh my love,~: Jazz whispered as their conscious's integrated, and he could feel Prowl's hope that they would spark, his anxiousness about whether he would be a good parent, and his boundless love for Jazz and any creation they would have.

:~You are the only one dearspark, that I would ever feel this with, and I love you so much,~: the Praxian replied, his hands gripping hard to his bondmates back as their combined emotions, their sparks pleasure, and their sensor net exploded with sensation. The saboteur pistoned his hips desperately into the tactician, crying out as both valve and spark seemed to envelop him, triggering the start of his overload.

Their sparks surged, energy tingling across their frames, heat bubbling up from their chests as their sparks overloaded with the force of a supernova. Their room was filled with a cacophony of heated cries as hot transfluid filled sopping and clenching valve, and it seemed like the pleasure would never end.

* * *

><p><em>After the triplets birth<em>

It was a peaceful day thus far for Prowl. He was in his office, his stack of datapads almost complete, and there had not been one fight, one prank, or one shift stuff up all day. For him, the only thing that would make it perfect was to go to his quarters and sink into his bondmates waiting arms. But now, he had a little mini-mission.

Unlike what some of the crew thought, he was not as emotionally imperceptive as he made himself out to be. He had learned - with Jazz's help - to pick up cues in other's behaviour that would tell him the information he needed.

Wheeljack was one such mech he had picked up this information from. That, and Bluestreak's sudden desire to be placed on patrols and on duties far away from Wheeljack's lab.

Prowl knew, of course, of the gunner's attraction to the inventor. Bluestreak was a friend, and he viewed the younger mech as his younger brother. It would be illogical if he didn't notice the way the grey mech acted around the CEO. He always went to see the Lancia after he got himself blown up, always gravitated towards Wheeljack's table in the rec-room. And because both Wheeljack and Bluestreak were fairly sociable, it wasn't easily picked up on. Prowl also observed that Wheeljack was not unaffected as well. He treated Bluestreak with more respect than some, saw him as a mech and not a youngling, and not only that, but he looked out for the gunner's well being, always allowing him to talk whenever he wanted for however long he wanted.

Recalling how Sideswipe, Smokescreen, Mirage, and Bumblebee had gotten him and Jazz together, he decided to do a little encouraging of his own.

In the most blunt way possible.

There was a tap on the door of his office before the chime was rung. Allowing himself a small smirk before allowing the door to open, the tactician became neutral once Wheeljack walked in.

"You called for me, Sir?"

"Hello Wheeljack," the tactician said cordially, resisting the urge to frown at the inventor's put off appearance. Apparently Bluestreak's inability to overcome his fear of rejection wasn't only affecting the gunner. "Please, have a seat."

The CEO did so, sitting stiff and on the edge of the uncomfortable chair across from his superior officer.

Prowl waited a bit, letting the tension build and didn't start until Wheeljack began shifting self consciously in his seat. It was a trick he had learned from Jazz many vorns ago. Don't just rush in for the information. Let the information come to you. You just needed to be patient.

And patience was something Prowl excelled at.

"Wheeljack." Prowl watched in hidden amusement as the CEO jumped slightly. "It has come to my attention that there is... tension... forming between you and Bluestreak." He watched as the helm fins flashed yellow in wariness. "And as such, it has also been affecting others around you." Truth. Feeling the need to console himself, Bluestreak had been talking the audios off of anybot he could and the direct result was tempers fraying. Wheeljack had become more reclusive when he wasn't trying to hunt the gunner down and he hadn't blown anything up in over a week. PERCEPTOR was even beginning to worry. "Therefore this problem must be addressed. I do not like discord in the ranks."

"Sir?" squeaked the inventor nervously.

Carrying on without any change in his tone, the tactician went on, "And as such, I would like to know where you feel on this issue."

Wheeljack looked so uncomfortable that Prowl took the slightest pity on him (but he was having fun seeing the scientist squirm) and said, "Wheeljack, I am asking just in case there is any indication that you do not feel the same way Bluestreak does. It would help ease his...suffering."

Wheeljack blinked, clearly not expecting that and opened his mouth for an intelligent reply. "... Huh?"

Prowl sighed. He could only hope to Primus that he hadn't been this oblivious himself. "Wheeljack, just because I am ignorant of many relationship necessities does not mean I do not watch and notice. For the past week and a half, Bluestreak has been avoiding you because he believes you do not return his feelings. He has been pining for your attention for vorns. Almost as soon as he joined, actually. While I can read Bluestreak fairly easily, you are rather... hard to read."

"Um... thanks. I think."

"Just answer the question."

"Well, I... uh... that is to say..."

Prowl resisted the urge to smack his face into the palm of his servo. "Do you return Bluestreak's sentiments or not, Jack?"

"Yeah..."

The SIC nodded. "Very well. You two need to talk this out and sort it out between yourselves. If I have to step in again, there is nothing stopping me from calling you both in here and locking you in until it's sorted."

Wheeljack was giving him a look that clearly suggested he was aping behind his mask.

"Uh...okay?"

"Very well. Dismissed," said Prowl, going back to his datapads.

It was also, in part, to hide his smirk at the inventors expression. Even with that mask, the gobsmacked emotion was all too present. As the sound of pedesteps faded, and the door closed behind the inventor, Prowl allowed himself to finally throw his helm back and laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

His door opened, his beloved bondmate walking through and giggling with him.

"Babe, nice work!" Jazz crowed, having seen it all through the bond. Short, but effective.

"Well," chuckled Prowl, "as long as it all works out for the best. Bluestreak deserves the same happiness that I found with you."

"He does." Jazz tilted his head to the side just a bit, indicating he was quirking an optic ridge under his visor. "Ah noticed ya didn't object to them either."

The tactician shrugged, smirking. "Wheeljack is not a bad match, in all honesty, and probably the best for Blue with the mechs he has to choose from. Bluestreak likes to pamper... and Wheeljack needs to be pampered. He hardly takes care of himself as it is."

"Logical." Jazz grinned, hiding his snicker as best he could.

"Perhaps."

* * *

><p><em>Three Weeks Later<em>

"Yep, there's one growing in there alright," Ratchet grinned, looking at the scanner over First Aid's shoulder and adjusting his recharging femme in his arms. The tiny thing didn't even stir. "It only took you like, what? Seven or eight tries?"

"We were beginning to lose hope," Prowl replied softly, staring wonder down at his chest plating. What a time to find out. Jazz was gone on a mission with Mirage and Bumblebee and here he was finding out that he was finally carrying. "Is there a way to tell what it is?"

Ratchet shook his helm, and leaned against the berth as his apprentice congratulated the Praxian SIC and then went about helping Swoop with cleaning the tools. "Too early. Maybe in another week, perhaps." A wide grin spread across his porcelain features. "Welcome to the woes of carrier-hood."

The Praxian allowed a small smirk. "I doubt I will have that much hardship in comparison to you, Ratchet. You have three. I will only be having one."

The medic chuckled, "Oh just wait. The waking up in the middle of the night to feed, the making sure that they don't get something stuck in their intake. You and Jazz are going to have your hands full."

"Ah, but Jazz has too much energy at times. This will be good for us," assured Prowl, sitting up and placing a hand over his chest seam. It was incredible to think that he and Jazz had succeeded to create another life. Unconsciously, his smile widened and his optics shuttered closed. He ignored Ratchet's knowing snicker in favour of letting a feeling of peace overcome him. He couldn't wait to tell Jazz!

Thanking the medics, he left for his quarters. His bondmate wasn't scheduled to be back until early morning if all went well. Knowing Jazz, there was a 97% chance it would.

* * *

><p>When Prowl woke, he instantly knew something was wrong. It was 8am and Jazz wasn't by his side. Frowning in worry, he got up and wandered into their living room, stopping in the doorway at the sight that greeted him. There, on the couch, was Jazz. There were scorch marks on his frame at random intervals, a few scratches, but what stood out most of all was the dejected pose and the tears dripping from beneath his visor.<p>

"Jazz?" he asked softly. He couldn't feel anything through their bond, the TIC was blocking him.

The saboteur looked up and it was his trigger. He sobbed, putting his helm in his hands with a strangled moan of grief.

The tactician felt his spark go cold. Jazz had cried a total of perhaps six times in all the time they had known each other. Something was desperately wrong. Moving to his lover's side and embracing him tightly, he murmured, "What happened my love?"

The TIC was quiet, his arms winding around Prowl and crushing him to himself. He shook, not saying anything and Prowl waited, offering and pushing his love and understanding towards his mate even if the bond was closed off at the moment.

Finally, after much patience, the words came haltingly. "It - it was 'posed ta be a simple mission." The hands tightened on his lover's plating, pulling him closer. "Get in, get out... But..." Feelings were starting to bleed through the bond now. Anger mixed with sorrow and pain. "Shockwave was there!" Jazz spat bitterly, his grip tightening again when Prowl jolted in surprise. "Didn't even see the fragger until... until..." A sob heaved the chassis, the tears coming faster. "He fired... it... it hit 'Raj. He went down, invisibility was compromised. We had... had to leave him... Didn't even get a chance to grab 'is bodeh."

"Oh Jazz..." Prowl breathed, his spark wilting for his lover and bondmate. The sparklet growing alongside it seemed to sense the change and it pulsed unhappily at its carrier.

"Why? Damnit, it looked a mess in Hound and R-raj's quarters, like they had a fight. Hound was wrecked when Ah left. Ah couldn't do anythin' for 'im. He asked if we were fakin' it, and the look on his face when Ah said 'no,' was just terrible," the sobbing mech continued.

"Dear Primus..." whispered the doorwinged mech, peppering kisses all over the black helm and pulsing calm to him, knowing that the calm would help his agitated sparklet as well.

Hiccupping, Jazz said, "Ah don't know what to do Prowler. Ah can't go back in with Shockwave there and without 'Raj, but...Ah need to get his body. It ain't right for me to leave 'im there."

Both knew that despite Jazz's deepest desires that he could not and would not go back so soon. The wound of losing one of his most trusted operatives and one of his closest friends was too raw for it. Mirage, as much as he found war distasteful at times and how he longed to be back on Cybertron, was valuable, a true hero of war for what he did. He spied on the Decepticons solo most of the time, at great risk, and went mostly unacknowledged by most Autobots. Jazz keened, weakly pounding a fist against his thigh as Prowl made a soft 'shushing' sound, continuing to kiss him and cradle him close.

After a while they both calmed, even Prowl having shed tears for Mirage.

They sat in a solemn silence, the simple contact enough, the knowledge they were together and alive making them thoughtful.

Wincing, Prowl knew that, no matter how tragic this situation was, he had to let Jazz know about the sparkling. Arranging them so they could look into each other's optics easier, the Praxian murmured, "I know this is hard but...I have some news that might cheer you up."

"Oh really?" Jazz asked sarcastically.

Soothing the barb with a wash of love, Prowl murmured, "Really. If..if this event hadn't happened I'm sure you would have been very happy with this news." At his bondmate's confused glance, he continued quietly, "Our last bonding session worked. I'm sparked. We're having a sparkling."

Jazz suddenly, irrationaly, burst out laughing. When Prowl looked alarmed, worried for his mate's sanity, he choked out, "Ya're kiddin', aren't ya? Just to make me feel better about l-losin' Raj."

Prowl shook his helm and he pushed the sensation of feeling the sparklet attached to his own spark through the bond. It cut Jazz's manic laughter off immediately.

"Primus..." Jazz's intake caught in his throat, and he leaned in, grasping Prowl's arms and pressing an audio against his chest. He couldn't hear anything, but his highly tuned sensors could feel the revolution of a tinier spark against his mate's larger one. "He's really in there."

"Who said it was going to be a he?"

Jazz grinned, this one more sparkfelt than any other during his day. Then it wilted a little.

"S'not fair."

Prowl, wilting himself with his bonded's downturn in mood, asked, "What isn't, love?"

"This happens now... When Hound's hurtin' so much. S'not fair that Ah can be so blessed while a good friend is hurtin' with his own losses."

The Praxian made a sound of sorrow, soberly reminded of the circumstances. He didn't like it any more than his bondmate did. "It may be news that gives the Ark opportuinty to bond over. You know. The new life coming forth in dark times." Jazz nodded, pressing a kiss to his chestplates in an effort to distract himself from the anguish he felt for himself and for Hound.

"We've gotta support Hound, Prowler. Before we celebrate...we gotta do what we can before we announce ya're sparked," Jazz said, his tone asked for it to be promised.

"I promise. We won't announce our sparkling until Hound is back on the right track once more," Prowl promised.

Content with the words, but wanting more time to reflect on the loss, the saboteur settled on top of his bondmate, feeding off the warmth of feelings sent his way. Poor Hound. Poor Mirage. They had so much in front of them. And yet, they had not bonded. They had not felt the wonder of a bond like he and Prowl had. Too much taken away from them. And yet, he had the fortune to have his mate and now a sparkling still here.

Either Primus had something bigger planned, or he had taken a step out this time around.

* * *

><p>Jazz sat quietly, staring at the report he was <em>supposed <em>to be finishing. He just couldn't concentrate. Not with Hound so down and hurting outside.

But there was nothing that could be done for him. Nothing made him... happy. Even Cliffjumper had been subdued.

Which was saying something.

The saboteur sighed and took a quick look at his chronometer. It was late, past midnight human time. And a quick check with Red Alert confirmed that Hound was still outside on the mountain. The tracker had spent nearly every night out there since... Since Mirage's death. Jazz set the pad down, a twinge in his spark. He frowned. There had to be something he could do. Mirage wouldn't want Hound in this state of limbo. It would break the spy's spark.

Determination suddenly filled him and he stood, trying to piece some kind of speech in his mind together when a red emergency comm light began flashing. Seeing who it was from and wasting no time he answered it.

:- _Hound to Jazz. We have a situation! Tell Ratchet to have the medbay ready!-: _Something like hope immediately flared in Jazz's spark and his comm to medbay was made quicker than he had answered the emergency comm.

:-_Ratch, Hound's just put a call through. Get outside with me!-: _he yelled over the comm. line to the medic. There was a ping of acknowledgement as he ran out of Prowl's office - for what was the point of using his own? - and folded down into alt mode and sped towards the entrance of the Ark. Soon, the sound of another motor was behind him, and he instinctively knew it was Ratchet. He wished all his hopes were true. He so wanted the reason for the medical call to be not for tragedy, but for joy.

Finally they burst out of the Ark and transformed, and Jazz felt his spark practically burst with joy at the sight. Mirage was there, held safely in the tracker's arms and they were staring adoringly at each other.

He was about to call out to them when suddenly the blue spy fainted.

_:-Ratchet! I need you here NOW!-: _cried Hound over the comms.

"I'm here," Ratchet called, speeding forward to look at the spy's condition. He frowned and said, "We need to get him to the medbay. Hound, lift him. He'll be all right."

Hound, even though he looked worried about the returned noble, looked as if all of his misery had lifted. He smiled through his anxiousness, and he could scarcely take his optics off Mirage. Jazz smiled warmly. Such a sight was beautiful to watch. Stepping forward, he looked down at Mirage, feeling his own relief bubble up. "He's back," he whispered, "He's here to stay. He's a fighter Hound."

"Yes...yes he is," replied the green mech, tracing a finger down his lover's serene face as they moved into the Ark.

Jazz turned, seeing his bondmate waiting for them. He grinned, so wide, so happy, and launched himself at his love, both falling to the ground with an 'oof.'

"He's back Prowler," the saboteur cried joyfully, lost in his euphoria.

Prowl smiled as he hugged his mate, feeling and luxuriating in the relief and joy he could feel echoing across their bond. "He is, Jazz. You raise some fine agents."

Jazz's answering smile melted his spark and the sparkling pulsed his own joy, finally feeling what it had been craving for the first time in days.

Things were suddenly starting to look up.

* * *

><p><em>A few days later<em>

Prowl groaned, rotating his hips as he keened in overload, Jazz's spike seated deep within him.

Ratchet had warned him about this. Prowl had thought he had been prepared.

But the craving for sexual intimacy with his partner had thrown them both for a loop.

"H-hope yer not like this all day, Prowler. S'much as ah love it when yer horny, Ah'd hate ta have ta explain to Prime why his SIC suddenly jumped meh before a very important meetin'."

"Scrap the meeting," purred Prowl, hopping off of his mate, not caring of the fluids liberally dripping out of him as he stood next to Jazz. "I want you to bend over so I can give you a decent spiking. Now."

The saboteur was taken aback, but found a thrill went through him. He so loved it when Prowl felt like really being in charge. "Okay. But ya gotta explain it." He hopped off Prowl's desk, retracting his valve panel and presented himself to his mate, who purred even deeper at the sight. He dropped to his knees, tasting his lover's lubricant that had begun to slick his valve. Both mechs moaned at the stimulation, Jazz enjoying that slick appendage flicking against his nodes while Prowl savoured the tangy-sweet taste of his lover.

"Oh damn Prowler...got me so hot already," gasped Jazz as that glossa delved deeper inside his folds.

"I'll make it quick so we can get to the rest of your meeting," murmured the Praxian around the valve, the vibration of his voice causing his lover to shiver exquisitely.

He stood, spike extending, and drove into Jazz's drenched valve. He gave naught but a few seconds to make sure Jazz was fine, before starting a hard and furious pace, throwing his helm back, enjoying the lush feel of his mate around him.

"Oh frag...Prowl!"

"Yes," hissed the doorwinger, the insatiable need building.

Jazz groaned loud, the slick sounds of his mate's thick spike dragging in and out of his valve filling the room, the smell of their previous coupling and this one permeating the air, thick in his olfactory sensors. This would be a quick one, but still oh so enjoyable. His overload built, the pleasure stretching inside of him, ready to snap...

Prowl came with a howl, scalding transfluid flooding his bonded's clamping passage and the heat of it sent Jazz over, valve like a vice as it rippled in overload among Jazz's impassioned cry and the clang of metal against metal as he bucked against the desk. Both were rigid for several moments before Prowl slumped, barely catching himself before he could crush his lover.

Ragged ventilations filled the room now, mingling with the ping of cooling armor and satisfied half hums from Jazz.

"Y'know Prowler..." The saboteur grinned over his shoulder. "Ah think ah like ya like this."

"Mmm..." the Praxian hummed, nuzzling into the black shoulder before slowly pulling out of his mate.

They cleaned up as quickly as possible, exchanging a few kisses before both left, their mood turning sombre. The meeting they had to go to was to discuss why Shockwave wanted the triplets, as per Mirage's intelligence gathered from the Decepticon base. It was an important meeting. One that, had Prowl not been carrying, they both would have been there 15 minutes early.

As it was, sated and focussed, Prowl and Jazz entered the meeting 14 minutes late, both acting as nonchalant as possible as Mirage and Bumblebee exchanged astonished looks. Usually they both were so punctual.

"Now that we are all assembled," the tactician said in his best emotionless tone, "we may begin talking about the ramifications of this information for Ratchet, the twins, and their sparklings."

The black and whites sat, expectant, for Mirage to quickly re-cap the information.

* * *

><p>If their mood had been serious before the meeting, Prowl and Jazz were now grim and determined with the knowledge presented to them. Things that had made sense, been revealed. And one thing was for sure. Shockwave was one dangerous (and sick) mech.<p>

Jazz waited until they reached Prowl's office before he spat out, "Ah don't like this. What if he finds out ya're sparked too? He could take ya and Ratchet if he got through."

"Ah, but we have Red Alert," Prowl countered, tactical computer beginning to compute what would be the best course of action for them to take. Yes, it was horrifying that the purple 'guardian' of Cybertron was looking into spark mechanics and what happened when certain types of bonds were manipulated, but it was not the time to panic. It was time to have a cool head, focus on preventing such events to be put into place. "I must have a meeting with him. We must increase the security around the medbay and Ratchet's quarters. Perhaps Prime could also go over with Wheeljack some new things that would help with this task as well."

The saboteur sighed. Leave it to Prowl to completely ignore the threat to himself. Walking up to his mate, he murmured, "And here, too. If he finds out...Ah'm not responsible for my actions."

The Praxian smirked. "Always loved playing the protector to me."

"Always will love," replied Jazz, still serious but less grim as he leaned forward and placed his hands over Prowl's chestplates.

"He will be safe Jazz," Prowl said easily, his belief in their safety absolute as long as the proper precautions were taken.

"The impossible only need ta happen once, Prowler," Jazz countered. "Ya of all bots should know that one."

Prowl sighed, his own servos coming to rest over his bonded's, white covering black. "Yet, if I let myself think of those impossibilities, then I find myself unable to relax enough to meet Ratchet's requirements..."

Jazz pressed closer to his bondmate, tucking his helm into the doorwinger's neck. "Ah don't know. Somethin' don't feel right." He sighed, mimicking his mate, and pulled back. "Ya better go see Red Alert. We gotta do this stuff now."

Prowl nodded, pulsing over the bond once, before going out to see the Security Director.

* * *

><p>After collapsing into the berth to go through two rounds of interfacing due to the energy requirements of their sparkling, Prowl and Jazz had fallen into a restless recharge. Jazz's words had been prophetic. Something didn't feel right about the night. It was like walking down a dark alleyway. You knew there could potentially be nothing sinister there. But...there always was the chance there was and it made you wary. It had both commanders on alert, even in the depths of rest.<p>

When screams pierced the too still silence, both of them instinctually flung themselves out of their berth, half groggy but knowing that something fundamentally _wrong _was going on.

* * *

><p>"Frag..." Jazz breathed, looking Red Alert over. "He's been hacked."<p>

Prowl's lips thinned. Hacking was a great violation to one's person and Primus only knew _what_ it would do to the already paranoid SD's flimsy trust of those around him. "Do I even need to ask?"

"No. Ah'd be tellin' ya what ya already know. Thing is, Soundwave has limits... And this was crossin' one o' them."

"So logic dictates he was ordered to do so. Or Frenzy was told personally."

Jazz looked at his mate, visor flashing nearly white in his anger. "Tha's what ah'm thinkin'"

The SIC sighed, and nodded to the worried Inferno who had Red Alert cradled in his lap. "Get him to First Aid and have him looked over. We want to make sure they didn't plant a virus while they were here."

The firetruck nodded and then stood, Red Alert cradled gently in his arms. As soon as he was gone, Jazz was tackling the security monitors. "Now, let's see what Red's systems picked up before his circuits got fried."

Prowl wordlessly slipped into the chair next to his mate, pushing away his tiredness. As much as he needed to recharge for his and the sparklet's sake, making sure the whole base was safe was much more important. He noticed Jazz had pulled up the screens that had covered the hallway where Ratchet's quarters were, so he looked to the outside security logs. The way the Decepticons had come in, taken Ratchet and the sparklings and just left...the thought made his tanks churn.

They both received a ping from Optimus, who was in the medbay watching over the twins.

"How'd this happen?" Prime asked quietly.

The black and whites looked at each other, silently urging each other to tell what they found.

"Two 'Cons. One unknown, and one Ah'd hoped to never meet again," Jazz replied.

"Elaborate, please." Both officers in the security room heard the tension in their leader's voice and sighed. He would not be liking what they found.

"One Jazz has recognized as a formal neutral bounty hunter gone 'Con," Prowl said, his voice not even wavering, but still thinned with frustration. "Designation; Shadetamer."

"Shadetamer?"

"Yeah." Jazz this time, his voice filled with something dark. "Mech's insane. Well, as close to insane as you can get and still be able to function on yer own. Craves our life energon, and 'as no issue tearin' a mech limb from limb. Met 'im once on a job. Watched tear into one of 'is own teammates jus' fer the fun of it. But past the insanity... Frag it Prime, they couldn't 'ave sent a better mech if they wanted this job pulled while we were on our guard!"

"We have our suspicions that it was this mech that... well, left Sideswipe and Susntreaker in such a state," Prowl continued.

There was quiet for a moment, a guilty kind of silence that permeated the air and seeped into their circuits. Then, so quiet they had to strain their audios even over the comm. link to hear... "And the other?"

Prowl glanced at Jazz, the tactician certainly not knowing the mech. Jazz shook his helm, lips pressed thin. "We have a name. But Ah don't know 'im and there isn't much to go on other than he's a frontline warrior that's been wit' Shockwave on Cybertron. They both were actually. Teammates. P'rbly the only mech Shadetamer 'asn't torn into. Designation; Backtrack. He's a big mech, Prime," Jazz growled, watching as a large dark blue mech stepped out of the Twins and Ratchet's quarters, the CMO flung over his shoulder and three wailing sparklings in an energy grid – like caged animals. He followed Shadetamer, whose black and silver armour was spattered with energon and he was grinning manically.

"I want you to find out everything you can. Anything you can find in the databanks on these two, I want in my hand in a report yesterday."

"Yes sir!" they coursed.

* * *

><p><em>A day later<em>

"Brothers?" Mirage's voice was tinted with surprise.

Jazz had to admit that the feeling was mutual. It certainly explained a lot of things as well as make things that much more complicated.

"Look, we may not have known them well, but Shadetamer and Backtrack were - are - brothers. Shadetamer's older. Sunny had more issues with that one, his mouth up in the stands and all," Sideswipe clarified. "But they were registered in the Pits as brothers."

"And you?"

Sideswipe gave the noble at the impromptu meeting a significant look. "Kinda had my hands full with Backtrack. You know, as in NOT getting my helm ripped off..."

Prowl pulsed along their bond in realisation, and Jazz felt as if things were falling into place a little bit. "Ah know what I need to about Shadetamer already. Backtrack was the unknown factor. Although now it's clear why Shaders never tore this mech apart. Anything else you can tell us, Sides?"

"Other than Backtrack is more brawn than CPU. If he had actually thought when we fought than I may not be here today. Mech's strong. Like he could belt MOTORMASTER a hard one strong."

"So don't let him get his servos on you," Hound clarified. "Sounds fun."

"Until you're missing an arm..." Sideswipe muttered, rubbing at his chestplates at the same time Sunstreaker did. He didn't like this inaction and he knew it was killing his twin.

"Very well..." Prowl spoke up for the first time, voice quiet. The saboteur resisted the urge to prod his mate's side of the bond, which had grown strangely silent. "Then we will start planning along the lines of the worst. That they have gone back to Cybertron is a distinct possibility, but we will have a contingency plan if they have not. Prime and I will -"

"No."

Anger lanced across the bond.

The SIC glanced up at his mate. "I'm sorry?"

"No, Prowl. YOU will only be planning. Ah ain't sending ya out there in your condition."

Silence.

Prowl completely closed off the bond, realising what the visored mech was trying to do.

"What condition?" Sideswipe demanded, looking at both black and white's suspiciously.

"It's nothing," said Prowl, voice firm and neutral, but his expression was thunderous as he looked at his bondmate.

Jazz met the glare and he threatened, "If Ah tell 'em, maybe it'll stop ya."

"You wouldn't dare use this against me Jazz. Don't you dare. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker need my plan to work to its fullest, and the only way that will happen is if I'm there. Or else the probability of getting Ratchet and all three sparklings back alive decreases to only 61% from its previous 89%," the doorwinged mech growled, surprising all in the room with the strength of it.

The saboteur threw his hands up in the air and argued, "Ah ain't lettin ya endanger our sparkling and that's final!"

Prowl gave a smirk that was as cold and bitter as a windy winter's day. "Thank you, Jazz. You have only strengthened my resolve. I am going out there. I am helping Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to reclaim what's rightfully supposed to be here and safe."

"You mean..." Hound broke in uncertainly, "You already came up with a plan with this information we gave you just now?"

Prowl inwardly shook his helm. They would never learn that it was what his tactical computer was solely made for. He turned his calm, steady gaze on the tracker and replied, "Indeed. And as far as I can see, if all goes our way it will be 89% successful. With the limited time we have, that is the percentage I will be happy with. All will be revealed, but all four of you must go and rally the troops. Go."

They left, and the Praxian turned to his mate, who was staring stubbornly over to a wall. Approaching, he whispered, "I will be fine. Please. We need to help this family, before ours gets started. I can't bear the thought that one of their sparklings, or Primus forbid, Ratchet, dies, that it will be our fault because we got a little too protective."

Jazz turned his gaze back to his sparkmate, who cupped his cheek and kissed him tenderly. He responded, before pulling back and sighing in defeat. "Ah know. Ah don't like it though."

"You never had to. Now, let's go kick some can, hmm?"

The smaller black and white hesitated, pressing their forehelms together. "We will. And then ya're comin' home and lettin' me pamper ya all day every day until our sparklin' comes. Ah don't like that ya're so necessary to somethin' workin'."

"SIC, remember?" Prowl said teasingly, prodding his mate's side of the bond in hopes of lightening his mood. "And not even Prime would have been able to talk me down from this if he had known of the sparkling."

Jazz sighed and pulled Prowl into his lap. "No, but you'd have him sick wit' worry. Ah'm already sick wit' worry."

"I know. And I am sorry, but I cannot risk the safe return of our dear friend and the sparklings that have given us so much hope just because I got too worried about the future. If it was meant to be, then I will be fine. Primus will see to it."

"Nevah took ya as the religious type, Prowlie."

Prowl suddenly frowned. "I wish you would not call me that."

"But I love ya so much, _Prowlie_. It's a declaration of my affection, _Prowlie_."

The tactician's frown subsided at his mate's lightened mood - which was what he had been wanting to achieve. He left the matter alone, knowing Jazz would only continue to call him...that...and instead dragged him into another kiss. He could never get tired of kissing Jazz, who responded with an almost desperate enthusiasm. In spite of all their reassuring that things would be fine, Prowl felt an inkling that everything was not going to be.

* * *

><p>Prowl hadn't done stealth and espionage for a long time.<p>

Therefore it was refreshing to sneak around the forest where the 'secret' base was with Bluestreak, making sure they didn't arouse suspicion and divert the attention from the convoy of mechs heading directly at the base.

They made their way to a hill, a very good vantage point from where he and the young gunner could pick off targets at random. As they set up, Prowl found his thoughts torn between the battle/rescue plan and the thought of his sparkling. And the danger being here possessed.

"They're going to be okay, right Prowl?" Bluestreak asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Prowl nodded, ascertained in Jazz's skills as well as the Twins abilities to find and protect their family. "They will be fine and we will come out victorious."

There was a hesitant pause. "What if we don't?

"We have to." The conviction in the SIC's voice was apparent on his face. "We don't have a choice."

* * *

><p>Jazz drove alongside Prime as the main Autobot convoy travelled at record speed across the expanse of plateau stretching before the forest, his thoughts torn between his mate's well being and the fact that his Prime was currently driving across a wide open space with no cover. The entire situation had him on edge.<p>

:~ _We are in position, love.~: _Prowl's voice over their bond calmed him slightly, but he still sent his apprehension over the bond. He received love and assurance in return.

They continued to drive up, disquiet permeating their fields. It was slightly foolish. It was a tempt, to the Decepticons as well, one they could not resist. Everyone was in position. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in the forest, Hound and Mirage working their way to rescue the sparklings. Now all they had to wait for was...

"PRIME!"

Jazz and the rest of the mechs in the convoy transformed as Megatron dropped to Earth, having come from the base. Jazz smirked. Megatron was getting far too predictable.

The sound of clangs and whirrs filled the air as drone after drone began to pour out from the base.

"Oh yeah, bring it on," the saboteur murmured to himself. His resolve was strong today. Not only was he doing this for Ratchet and the triplets, but for Prowl and their unborn sparkling as well. It gave him a surge of strength and pride, and he let his gun slip easily into his hands.

Prime growled, Megatron snarled.

And then they flew at each other and battle began.

* * *

><p>Prowl sighed, the issue with the Aerials solved temporarily. Starscream and his trine were going to be a problem, but he was confident that Hound and Mirage were capable of handling it. That left the problem of Shockwave.<p>

The purple behemoth was in his sights, the coward hiding once more behind his army of drones. He could end his threat right here with just a pull of the trig-

_-Bang!-_

Frag. He was off, his shot going wide and downing a drone on Shockwave's right. Well, he was no Bluestreak. Re-settling the rifle on against his shoulder, he aimed again, biding his time for the right moment, the sparklet doing circles around his spark being unsure of all the energy around. He pulled the trigger again and cursed silently to himself when he missed, hitting the mech's cannon arm instead thanks to a rattling BOOM that shook the battlefield. He heard Bluestreak mutter beside about Wheeljack and offered his silent agreement before re-aiming... on empty ground.

SLAG!

Where had Shockwave gone?

He lifted his optics from his rifle, hoping to catch sight of the purple mech.

Scanning the ground, he was surprised when he saw Shockwave standing a little closer to their position, raising something.

Just as he looked over the rock outcropping to see what it was, his vision was suddenly filled with static and pure, blinding pain hit him with the force of a comet.

The last thing he heard was a high, fearful scream.

A scream, that screamed his name, as pain faded into nothingness, and he fell unconscious.

* * *

><p>One moment he had been fighting with all his strength, downing drone after drone and even successfully landing a few hits on Megatron while he and Prime fought.<p>

And then white burning pain filled him, searing through him and he instinctively called out his lover's name. "PROWL!"

Several mechs paused, turning in their surprise to stare at him.

Jazz stood there, shaking, aware of many things at once. Starscream was turning on Megatron with his Trine supporting him. Over Ratchet's sparklings no less. The battle had almost completely paused, Shockwave advancing on the 'Con SIC with all his deadly intent. Wheeljack rushing to his side along with First Aid to see what was wrong. He was aware of all of these things, aware of the murmuring voices in his audios.

But the pain in his spark was the worst. What had happened? What had gone wrong?

The saboteur reviewed the last of his mate's memories. The confusion, the fear, the pain...

"Jazz? What happened? I can't help unless you tell me...!" First Aid was trying to shake him out of it.

"P-prowl's..."

And everything snapped into place with sickening clarity as a desperate rage filled his entire being, feuled by pain and spark break. He wheeled, expression murderous and easily read in every hard line of his body as he rounded on the large Decepticon sycophant. "YOU!" His digit jabbed towards the 'Con. "YOU KILLED MAH SPARKLING!"

There was a roar of engines as the Command trine and the Conehead trine rose up and landed very close to Shockwave. The mech looked around in a manner that suggested 'who, me?' but it didn't matter to Jazz. He was blinded by rage, focussing on the purple hide getting bigger in his vision as he ran. An intense lust for the one opticked mechs energon to coat his hands rose in him, and he snarled, fishing twin energon blades out of subspace. He wanted this to be messy and personal.

"Ah'll KILL you!" he bellowed, leaping up and slashing the stunned mech's shoulder lines.

There was a shrill cry in Seeker cant, and six pairs of servos joined him in ripping apart Shockwave.

If Shockwave tried to fight back, he didn't notice. Not to mention a 7 on 1 was a fight in which he could do nothing.

Jazz snarled again, using his fists and daggers, trying to get to the chestplates to carve that spark away and extinguish it. How dare he? HOW DARE HE MURDER HIS SPARKLING!

Starscream was right there with him, shrieking and pummelling away at the yellow optic in his own rage, Seeker protective instincts going wild.

Tearing away a large portion of side plating and jabbing a dagger into an oil tank, the saboteur was heedless to the call of First Aid, and also to Megatron as the warlord reached where the six jet's were tearing into Shockwave's plating with him. He only realised when the purple fled his vision. Like an angry jaguar, he lunged for the body as it was taken away, legless and missing an antenna and half an arm and energon everywhere. He wasn't finished yet! He roared, grabbing his gun, but found a hand stopping him.

It was Starscream. The words shaped by the mouth were meaningless until he heard 'Prowl.'

"Wha-"

"Your mate needs you," Starscream said quietly.

Jazz clenched his fists, digits digging into his palms as he glared murder up at the Decepticon leader and the purple coward in his grasp. He turned to Starscream. "And Ah suppose Ah just leave ya ta take care o' him?"

Starscream shook his helm. "I cannot fly with my wing in its condition and my wingmate needs ME as well."

They stood staring at each other for several moments before Jazz nodded and they each turned. Starscream to talk to the waiting Coneheads and Jazz to follow First Aid to go after his mate.

* * *

><p>Awareness can be a truly terrible thing.<p>

Prowl onlined, a split second of nothingness - no knowledge of what had happened - before memories assaulted him. His and Jazz's premonitions. The battle. Shockwave. Before his optics were even on, his mouth opened in a scream of anguish, the hole in his spark making itself inevitably and painfully known. He was unaware of the hands gripping his hands or the voice begging him to open his optics. He was deaf, dumb, and blind to it all. His whole being screamed for the loss of the life that had been growing within him.

"NOOOO!" he screamed, sobbing uncontrollably.

His sparkling...his beautiful sparkling was gone.

It was his fault, all his fault. How could Jazz see him as true mate material now? He let out a keen of anguish, hands coming up to scratch at his chestplating.

"Prowler!" sobbed a desperate voice from beside him.

He finally opened his optics, and through his tears he glimpsed the morose face of his bonded. His shame flooded him and he mumbled, "I'm so sorry Jazz. I failed you...I failed you...I failed him...My fault, I went into b-battle."

Warm arms enveloped him and a low voice crooned in his audial, "No baby, not ya're fault. Don't think that. Shockwave's fault. Don't worry sweetspark, we'll get through this together."

As he continued to sob, Prowl failed to see how that would ever become a reality.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: *Looks up at big chapter, then at readers* We hope you all liked this. Yes, it was angsty. Very angsty and almost abruptly so after last chapter, but remember the time has passed and this is a new chapter in their lives and one of the strongest hurdles they will ever face. **

**So please review. It's not only me, but Kat who would love to see what you thought.**

**Until next time, have a nice day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Here we go again! We both hope you enjoy this chapter. It's angsty, it's bitter, it's sweet. It's everything I hoped it would be. Thank you to all of you who reviewed and favourited this story!

**Warnings: **Sticky mech on mech interfacing, mentions of sparkling death and violence, angst.

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Transformers.

**AND! Not to mention a humungous shout out to the wonderful, the hilarious, the encouraging, KATEA-NUI! She's an awesome writer and I adore writing this series with her. **

* * *

><p><strong>Feeling Complete – Chapter 3<strong>

* * *

><p>Prowl was trying to recharge, but knew it was a fruitless exercise.<p>

Ever since his sparkling had...had...and the medbay...and the knowledge that it was all his fault. Jazz promised him that it was all going to be okay. How could it? He had lost the being he had been nurturing due to his own confidence in his battle plans.

He ejected a dry sob to the air. He had cried so much that the reservoirs of optic fluid had been depleted.

Prowl felt so wretched, and wished his mate wasn't being so loving and supportive. Where was the blame? It was all his fault...all his fault...his...he had, in effect, killed his sparkling. He let another keen out, hugging his pillow to him. Well, at least Jazz had left him alone in his misery. He had stopped the flow of the bond as to not burden his mate with his problems. He didn't know where he went.

Something about Prime?

Soft footsteps sounded in their living room, and the Praxian knew his bondmate was back.

"Prowler," Jazz murmured, spark sinking at the dejected form of Prowl, doorwings still slumped and tear tracks etched plainly on his faceplates.

Prowl didn't reply, only dry sobbed harder.

"Prime's...Prime's given us approval to get out of here," the saboteur went on, approaching the berth and sitting on the edge, placing a hand on Prowl's hip.

Prowl was torn. Half of him didn't want to move. Wanted to stay here, curled up on his berth and just... waste away. The other half, the half that was very much alive with feelings of Jazz, wanted to escape the constricting pressure and atmosphere of his self loathing. Of the reminder.

Everything.

Not knowing what to do, he broadcast his helplessness to his mate, feeling gentle servos graze his shoulders before a warm frame pressed against his back. He twisted to press his face into Jazz's neck, his frame trembling with the occasional sob.

"It's okay, babe. Ah know..." the saboteur murmured in his audio. "Ah know."

* * *

><p>"So you're going?"<p>

Jazz turned around, slightly surprised to see the former Decepticon Air Commander and Second in Command standing just inside the entrance to the Ark, watching his wingmates as they flew lazily in the distance. "Yeah. Gotta get Prowl outta here... Ah can't keep 'im in a place that's only crushin' his spark more."

"I agree," the Seeker said quietly, turning his helm so that he looked at the saboteur, watching the methodical movements as Jazz packed enough energon and supplies for the trip. "I am sorry for your loss. As much as some Seekers do not like to admit it...Praxian are Seeker kin. It was truly cruel for such thing to happen."

The visored mech let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah. Maybe Hawaii can lighten the mood for the both of us."

Those red optics softened ever so slightly with compassion. "You are a good mate for him."

"Thanks Screamer." Jazz smiled crookedly when the detested nickname was heard by the jet, who scowled.

"Whatever. I do have something to ask you," Starscream said. "I want to go after Shockwave. Not only did he threaten the lives of the triplets, but he...well, you are feeling _that _all too well. And he's not fit to be functioning after all of the slag he's done." He vented, letting his suddenly murderous emotions that he had tramped down calm, put the slagger mostly out of his mind as he asked, "So...do you want to find him with me? Make him pay and affix his antennae on the wall as trophies?"

Jazz stared long and hard at the Seeker. "Ya serious?"

"As serious as your Prime is about ending this war." A dark look passed over the Seekers gun metal faceplates. "Are you in?"

A mirthless laugh fell from the saboteur's lips. "Ya have ta ask?"

Starscream smirked. "I suppose not." The smirk was gone just as quickly. "Don't tell anyone. Not even your mate. The less who know, the better, seeing as it'll leave no chance for anybody to get word of it." The jet paused, his optics slipping back to his wingmates. "And the safer we can keep others."

"Ah hear ya."

"Jazz!"

Both turned to see the CMO striding down the hall to the entrance, datapad in servo and a twin on either side. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were taking no chances with their mate and their sparklings were with Wheeljack and Bluestreak at the moment. "Here." The red and white mech shoved the datapad into the startled servos of his superior. "That's for Prowl. He's lost a lot of energy and that'll let you know what will be good for his systems and what isn't. Also, there are instructions just in case he crashes. Normally, I wouldn't worry, but given the circumstances..."

Jazz gripped the datapad a little tighter, his gaze shifting to the floor. Yes, given the circumstances, it would be easier for something to send Prowl's circuits into a state of haywire and induce a crash. Which could be disastrous with many of his firewalls weakened.

"Jazz..." Ratchet's servo hovered in the air between them, unsure if he should comfort or even if it would be welcomed. "Jazz, I'm sorr-"

"Don't."

Ratchet blinked at the sudden fierce conviction in the Porsche's voice. "What."

"Don't. Don't apologize, Ratch. Ya have NOTHIN' to be sorry for." His visor flashed. "Prowl and Ah may have lost our... our first chance at a new future together, but we would do it again, even knowin' the outcome. Apologizin' only makes Prowl's sacrifice seem like it was nothin'."

A small smile pulled at the corner of Ratchet's lips. "You're right. Then, I guess... be safe is the only other thing I can offer."

Jazz smiled and reached out to pull the CMO and his very good friend into a hug. "We'll be back causin' and stoppin' trouble before ya know it."

"Primus save us all..." Ratchet mumbled, hugging back before separating, nodding an acknowledgement to Starscream and waving as he and the Twins returned into the Ark.

It was quiet for a few moments before the Seeker turned to the black and white. "I'll work on an outline to send you. We'll need to strike fast and be as unpredictable as possible. Shockwave is a crafty fragger, but work outside the box and he has trouble keeping up." The Seeker smirked as Jazz nodded his understanding. "Besides, Hawaii is quite a drive and a swim... you'll need something to keep you busy."

With that, he folded into jet mode and streaked across the sky to join his trine, leaving the saboteur with a feeling that things were going to be changing soon.

It couldn't have come too soon.

* * *

><p>Inside of Skyfire's hull, Prowl and Jazz were in car form, making sure their EM fields were tucked close to their frames. Skyfire was generous enough to fly them there, and neither wanted to burden him with the gravity of their emotions.<p>

Prowl was having trouble not keening out his continued anguish. His spark kept searching for the little bundle of love, even though the presence of the hole was heavily pronounced. Jazz had been silent too, not talking to him much.

They had talked a bit though. Enough for Prowl to feel a fraction better when it came to his mate. Jazz had assured him he didn't blame him for losing the sparkling, and that, if anything, the strength to continue with life had made his love and respect increase. It was a comfort in such a time of sadness. He didn't really care where they were going. Didn't care about what they were leaving behind (although he had approved a few electronic requests without even looking at them. He didn't even care about what he had licensed to happen!). All he wanted was this pain to go away.

"ETA to main island, Hawai'i, fifteen minutes," Skyfire informed them quietly.

Jazz sent him a ping in affirmation.

They were going to see two islands. The big island, Hawai'i, and Maui. Jazz could only hope it would signal the beginning of something new for he and Prowl. A healing of wounds, a blossom of understanding and more love.

Thank goodness that a retired police officer Prowl had worked with once, Officer Renwick Kuuai, was letting them stay at his property on the big island. It saved a lot of hassle for Jazz, who planned this trip so rapidly.

When they finally touched down at Hilo International Airport, the Porsche had to nudge his Datsun partner gently to remind him to exit. Prowl said nothing, driving down slowly and following cues from humans. Jazz was left to organise. A position that was foreign to him without Prowl right there by his side. Once everything was sorted out with the authorities, he nudged the cop car again before they set off for the property near a place called Wailuku River State Park. Neither black and white could find it in them to admire the new terrain or the beauty of it.

* * *

><p>Prowl sat on the beach, the sound of the surf pounding on the sand soothing... calming. And echoing.<p>

He liked it. It drowned his thoughts, his hurt... but it was all still there under the surface. He doubted the pain would ever go away. It seemed to be an endless thing. It would come upon him when he tried to recharge at night. He wasn't even sure if getting away was doing any good.

Jazz had to disagree. It was their second day in and already Prowl seemed calmer, less inclined to sit and weep for hours on end, though he still wiped away tears during recharge hours. Even so, it was doing them both good. Not to mention, his own mood seemed to be bleeding over their bond which he had implored Prowl to keep open.

"What is so funny?"

The saboteur glanced down at the chevroned helm in his lap. His grin was splitting his faceplates. "Just got a comm. from Ratchet."

"Oh?"

"Yep." The grin got wider. "Prime and Screamer got over-energized last night. In Prime's quarters."

A slow blink was his answer. "No?"

"Yes."

"No... Really, no."

Jazz just smiled at his mate.

"Dear Primus you're serious."

Jazz snickered. "I wouldn't even know that if I hadn't guessed when Hatchet called to check-up and he mentioned Prime and Screamer were in the medbay gettin' looked over."

Prowl groaned, "Please tell me they just got drunk and that was it. Please. Please save my processor from the mental images."

His mate giggled and stroked over his chevron, before going, "Nope. They got _more _than drunk. One very awkward one night stand."

The tactician could only sigh as his mate broke out into fits of giggles. If he had been in his usual mood, he might have laughed along. Now all he could feel was a kind of weary resignation. He curled into Jazz's lap more, winding his arms around his waist in a desperate bid to keep him from sinking ever deeper into the chasm of loss he was trying to crawl out of. Jazz detected it immediately and pulled him up so his helm was now tucked into his neck.

"Ah didn't know the thought of Prime and Screamer together made ya want to cry," the saboteur joked weakly, knowing it could be interpreted two ways.

Prowl sighed again, although he transmitted through their bond that it was kind of funny.

"It's beautiful here," he said after a while. "I'm glad you brought me, love. I don't deserve you sometimes."

"No, no, babe. Sometimes Ah feel that way too, but it only cements that we really do deserve each other. Even like this...you complete me."

"And you, me," Prowl confirmed quietly, letting the pulse of his mate's spark soothe his fear and sadness back.

He concentrated on the slow movements of Jazz's servo rubbing down his back, along a doorwing, the back of his and on to complete the circuit again. It was... comforting in a way Prowl had never appreciated more than right at this moment.

"So..."

"Hmmm?"

"Prime and Starscream."

"M-hm." Jazz grinned.

"It will remain a one night stand."

"Ya sure 'bout that babe?"

"It will." The conviction in Prowl's voice left no room for argument and Jazz was torn between wanting to snicker and want to laugh with his joy. Prowl almost sounded normal for a moment.

The sun beat down on them, warming their plating and Prowl drifted into a light doze, rest being what his body demanded after being deprived by restless recharge cycles.

* * *

><p>It was night time. Refreshed after his afternoon nap, Prowl wandered up and down the secluded beach area that was all his and Jazz's for a few weeks. Every now and then he would spot a pretty shell or a piece of sea glass and tuck it away in his subspace. His reason being that they would make for good gifts and educational tools for the triplets upon their return.<p>

Soon, he began humming. That same little song he had learned as a youngling, the one he had planned on singing to his own creation. It didn't bring him the sadness he thought it would. Picking up a large, purple shell, a rather novel idea occurred to him. They hadn't created their protoform yet. And the spark, once gone, merely dispersed into the atmosphere, or in a sparklets case if destroyed, absorbed what was left back into the creator's spark. Maybe what was keeping him on the brink of misery was the lack of closure he had received. Nothing to pay his respects to. Nothing to bury.

The shell was large, fitting into the palm of his hand. He brought it up to his chest, still humming.

Prowl walked further down the beach until he came to a palm tree with a few bushes of white flowers near the base. Kneeling in the sand - taking no notice of the grains working their way into his joints, he scooped away a portion of the sand and placed the shell on it.

Part of him felt silly. It was a shell, no comparison. But he inflected meaning on it. Slowly, methodically covering up the sand, he sung, "Farewell, farewell, back to the Well, greet all our past and embrace them. Don't cry that I'm still living and I won't cry that you're gone. It's a circle of life, no matter how we don't like it as it rolls along." The doorwinger continued to sing well after the shell was covered. It was only when he heard footsteps behind him that he stopped, the sudden silence hanging, suspended between them.

"That was beautiful, Prowler," whispered Jazz, kneeling beside him and wrapping an arm around him.

Prowl couldn't reply, a sudden need welling up with him, so he turned and brought his mouth to his bondmates, seeking for love, seeking for affirmation that they were still strong together.

And his silent plea was answered in the almost scalding kiss that greeted him even as they fell back and he sprawled over his lover. Their mouths never once breaking contact, Prowl's servos feverishly searched for everything he knew was Jazz. His angles, his seams, his cables... Everything as he relearned territory he already knew and could map in his cortex without looking.

Jazz was far from idle, his own need to have his lover with him in all senses of the word once more, strong. One servo pressed against the back of Prowl's smooth helm, deepening the kiss for exploring glossae and eager, sucking kisses that had both ex-venting desperately when they broke away to stare at the other.

Jazz's visor clicked back, cobalt meeting beautiful electric blue and it was like a deep, dark weight lifted from their shoulders.

They collided again, sand flying and grinding into their joints which they ignored. The cool evening breeze made their frames feel as if they were on fire where they touched, sensitizing plating as their arousal climbed.

"Prowler..." Jazz breathed, one knee hooking over his lover's waist and pulling him impossibly closer.

The answering shudder was accompanied with a whined, "Need you...to be with you."

The saboteur knew what his mate needed and clicked open his panel, keeping his spike tucked firmly away as his valve was bared to his love. Prowl needed some control and he was ever too willing to give it. He purred, nuzzling up against his neck and rolling his hips up so the heat from his components brushed against the Praxian's hip plating. "Baby, Ah'm all yours."

Prowl moaned, two fingers slithering down his mate's lithe body to tease the valve lining, already slick, before pushing in and wriggling them around, brushing every single sensor node in his frantic desire to please, to prove himself.

"Nnngh," groaned Jazz, already wanting more. This was not enough. Nowhere near enough. They needed to be connected.

"Beautiful Jazz," murmured Prowl, thrusting and wiggling his fingers in and out, burning with pleasure, tempering all his sadness. All he could feel was love as it was shoved through their bond, and he returned in full. Stress melted away. This was what mattered. The feeling of togetherness.

Of oneness.

Knowing they both couldn't wait, the doorwinger wrapped his lover's legs around him and slid smoothly into the wonderful tightness of Jazz.

They keened, gripping each other hard, forcing their plating into contact, needing that closeness, needing that friction.

Prowl moved slowly, tenderly, but with no less intensity than what he had in preparing his mate. It was wonderful and yet sobering, exhilarating and yet bittersweet. Their mouths came into contact again, pressing into hot, needy kisses and panting and whimpering into each other.

Jazz was the first to unlock his chestplates, not parting them yet, but begging, "Ah...Ah need to feel ya babe. Sweetspark, join with me. Ah love you. Come back home."

Prowl felt something inside of him break. With a sob, his chest plates split apart, almost hurting with how quickly they slid aside to reveal his desperate spark. "I want to come home."

"And Ah'll welcome ya with open arms." Jazz assured, pulling his lover down until their sparks brushed.

The first tendril of brushing energy drew a keen from pearl white lips and then they were crashing together with all the ferocity of a train wreck, falling into the endless stream of their love for each other. Hurt was sought out and soothed. Tears were brushed away. Hope was replaced. Love was strengthened.

Through it all they kissed and called each other's designations, Prowl pistoning his hips as Jazz's own rose to match him, hard, fast, unconquerable...

A flash of blinding white light from their sparks lit their area as release crashed through them both simultaneously. There was no definitions here in this place of blinding emotion, and everything ceased to exist except for the entity of Prowl-and-Jazz, melded together, whole and strong once more. They screamed out each other's designations, before both slumped, offline from the sheer force of their overload.

Jazz was first to wake, noting their sparks were still connected, a lovely feeling of warmth filling him from top to toe. He purred, sliding his mouth along a chevron point to entice his lover to wake.

Prowl finally onlined, completely strutless and relaxed in post-overload bliss. He felt almost whole again. "I love you," he whispered, lacing his hands with smooth black ones.

"I love you," replied Jazz, relishing the words each time they came out of his mouth. No matter how much they uttered it to each other, it never got less true.

The chevroned mech reluctantly leaned back, disentangling his spark from his mate's and pulling free of the hot, fluid filled valve. Jazz gasped as he did so, sticky strings of overload connecting them in their lower regions. They closed their chestplates and stood together, looking at each other lovingly in the moonlight. Jazz twined their hands again, and they walked back to the lean-to that served as their resting place at night. Clicking down his visor, he smirked and said softly, "We need a wash tomorrow. Sand everywhere."

"Mmm...but for now, snuggling. You can have your hands all over me tomorrow," teased Prowl softly.

Seeing his mates blissful smile, Jazz could only laugh.

* * *

><p><em><span>Three Weeks Later<span>_

"Prowl! Prowl! C'mere!" The Praxian official reluctantly opened his optics, the lenses automatically dialling down to compensate for the light of the sun. He sat, doorwings shaking sand free from his plating as he stood to cross the short distance between himself and his mate, Jazz standing on the edge of the surf and staring into the waters.

He came closer to look as well, slightly curious as to what held the saboteur's attention. He frowned. "What am I supposed to be looking at, Jazz?"

The Porsche grinned, pointing carefully. "That."

For a moment, Prowl still saw nothing. Then he did.

Floating just on the surface of the water and rolling with the small waves was an opaque creature, camouflaged perfectly with the surface of the water. Leaning closer, Prowl could make out hundreds of hanging limbs or tentacles below the surface and he correctly deduced it as a jellyfish. He smiled.

"It is rather interesting."

"Yeah...apparently they sting if their tentacles are touched."

The Praxians doorwings flared as he caught the mischievous tone in the visored mech's voice, and he admonished quietly, "It is not doing anything to us. Leave it be."

"Ah just wanna see..."

Prowl settled his face into his palm as Jazz grinned and stepped into the waves lapping around his pedes, before leaving down and extending a finger to touch the tentacles. There was an immediate reaction from the creature, and it seemed to spasm before moving the jelly like membrane to swim away. Jazz was giggling, moving back to his mates side and saying, "Ooh Prowler, it was really tingly."

"I'll take your word for it."

Jazz grinned, taking his hand and leading them down further, pointing out more jellyfish bobbing here and there on the water, showing his lover butterflies of all colours, and simply tugging them around in some imagined dance.

Soon enough Prowl was smiling, held securely to the saboteur's side.

"Ah always wondered what it would be like to surf..." Jazz hummed thoughtfully, staring to the bigger waves rolling in, his arm tightening around Prowl's waist. "Blaster tried once. 'Parently, we're too heavy."

"I would believe that," Prowl chuckled, the arm around Jazz's shoulders tightening as well. "Cybertron didn't exactly require many of us to be able to float."

Jazz frowned. "Ah think we were missin' out."

The chevroned helm bobbed in a short nod and then it was quiet between them, the sound of the ocean moving and the wind blowing calming.

"One more day."

Prowl startled out of his thoughts, for once not gloomy and self deprecating.

"I'm sorry?"

Jazz looked at him, visor glinting handsomely in the sun. "Ah said one more day. One more and then we gotta head back..."

"Is that what you have been brooding about all day?" Prowl had not been blind to the overly cheerful smiles or the occasional frowns, though he had been content to ignore them and just bask in his mate's attentiveness and love.

Apparently, that wasn't the response that Jazz had been expecting. "Yer not upset?"

Prowl cocked his helm to the side curiously. "Should I be?"

"Well, no, Ah mean... Yer not... Ya sure yer okay?"

Oh. THAT was the problem. Prowl smiled. "I am fine Jazz. Better than I thought I could ever be after... after that." There was a small pause in which Jazz allowed his bondmate to gather his thoughts. "Truth be told, since my processes have become clearer, I am rather worried."

Jazz frowned. "'Bout what?"

"If there will even be an Ark left to return to."

There was a long stretch of silence in which the saboteur took in the completely serious look on Prowl's face before he pulled away, doubling over in laughter.

"Oh baby it's times like these ya really know how to make me worry less 'bout ya," Jazz laughed, straightening again, launching back into fits of giggles with Prowl joining in. He stepped forward to nuzzle against his mate, hanging on tight to him. After so much pain and sparkbreak, after so much talking and sparkmergeing which they had sorely needed, they were both on the right track again. They would never forget the sparklet, but nor could they carry the burden of sorrow. It was time for a new beginning. They chuckled again as Jazz supplied a mental image of the Ark decorated with masses of streamers and Optimus hiding in his office.

"Most likely," snickered Prowl in reply.

"Y'know, Skyfire arrives in 23 hours. Think we have time for another couple'a merges?"

"Interfacing fiend," his bondmate teased.

"Ya like me that way. What do ya reckon? We'll go jump in the lake at the bottom of the waterfall and clean the sand off, and then we'll dry off and have a nice round of-" Jazz was cut off as a hungry pair of lips crashed down onto his, sealing the suggestion with agreement and tugging them inland towards the waterfall Jazz mentioned.

"I want to see if you can scream my name loud enough to make birds fly away out of the treetops," purred the tactician.

"Oh yeah."

* * *

><p>Skyfire touched down at the sunny Hilo International Airport next to the black and white Porsche and Datsun, and if he had been in root mode, he would have been smiling. Even ten metres away from him he could tell this holiday had done a world of good for his commanders. He swore he could see smiles on their alt modes.<p>

Their part of the runway was empty, and so he felt no qualms about speaking aloud.

"Prowl, Jazz. Good to see you both. I trust it's been a good stay?"

"Very," the cop car replied as he slowly drove up the shuttle's ramp. "I highly recommend it."

"Especially if ya're with a special someone," Jazz chimed in, back to his usual state of cheekiness.

Skyfire relaxed on his landing gear. He could feel their contentment and joy, and their acknowledgement of what was needed to heal. It was good to feel it in their EM fields. He and the others had been so very worried for the couple. It was always hard to bounce back after the death of a sparkling.

He was about to start preparing for takeoff when one of his sensors pinged.

That was odd. It was one of those special 'flier modified' sensors. Now, if he could only remember what it meant...

Oh wait.

It couldn't be.

One of the mechs inside of him was sparked.

But who?

Deciding to take the wisest course of action, Skyfire did not mention it to the two mechs settling on their wheels. He would not give them false hope, and nor would he cause them new pain. This was news for Ratchet to give them, not himself. He only hoped that one of the Command Trine wouldn't sense it and blurt it out.

It was quiet for the majority of the trip, the three of them exchanging idle chit chat. Jazz and Prowl commenting on the island and it's wonderful secrets, sights and wonders. Skyfire giving a somewhat convoluted idea of what had been happening at the Ark. Prowl was content to know that it was at least still standing and not reburied, burned down, taken over and the like.

It was sometime later as they were flying over California that Prowl drifted into a light doze.

"So I see the trip did the both of you some good," the large shuttle commented.

"Yep." Jazz was cheery, but there was also and undercurrent of relief. "Took awhile, but Ah think we're over the worst o' it."

Skyfire chuckled. "I would say so. We have missed you. Prowl especially, but you as well."

"Awwww... Now that just ain't right!"

There was a laugh that replied to his whine. "Starscream has been valuable in helping to keep our troops in line. And Skywarp did what no other mech has been able to do before."

The curiosity in Jazz's voice was comical. "What'd 'Warp go an' do that Ah couldn't?...Besides fly."

"Put the minis in their place."

"..."

"I see you are speechless."

"What'd he DO?"

With a large internal smile, Skyfire sent the audio file that was a popular on the Ark to his superior.

Jazz made a move on his wheels that seemed to be reeling back from shock. "Holy slag...just...holy slag. Ah haven't even been around him all this time and Ah'm proud of 'im. Did a great job."

"That's not all they've been doing," the shuttle said quietly. "He and Thundercracker have become very attached to the Aerials. They, as well as Starscream and I, are planning to guide them through their first heat when it comes. I am very glad it has not occurred yet. I don't think the Ark would have survived five fliers in heat."

The Porsche laughed. "Oh man. Fliers make everything go crazy."

"Indeed."

A thought occurred to him, and he said, "A hope it doesn't make Prowler stress out. Sounds like a lot of new work will be given to him."

Skyfire was silent for a moment. "Actually, as long as he and Starscream collaborate, I doubt he will have much issue."

Jazz could only chuckle. "We'll just hafta see, won't we?"

* * *

><p>Optimus Prime smiled warmly as he watched his two most trusted friends arrive back at the Ark and transform gracefully in front of him, both saluting. He was very glad to see that they were looking much better than they had before they left the Ark. Jazz was smiling, looping an arm around Prowl's waist, while the Praxian looked content.<p>

It seemed like the couple could really work things out after all.

"Prowl, Jazz, it's good to have you back," he greeted.

"Good to be back Optimus," Prowl answered quietly, and for him, it was. He was eager to throw himself back into his work to undo any damage that had been wrought in his absence. Mainly, the Seekers and the Twins.

"Home sweet home. Ah mean, Hawaii was nice, but sand kept getting stuck in my joints 'n' all," Jazz chimed in.

Optimus laughed and stepped back to walk them in. "Well, I'm sure the weather was nice. Surprisingly, things went smoothly while you were both away. Perhaps not as smoothly as it usually is, but smooth for-"

"INCOMING!"

Optimus prime ducked as Skywarp jetted through the wide entrance hall of the Ark, three happily squealing triplets on his back, while Sunstreaker, Ratchet, and Sideswipe spewed curses from their mouths as they raced after the wayward jet, both black and whites nearly being bowled over without so much as an acknowledgement.

Both SIC and TIC stared in surprise before Prowl gave Optimus a very non-plussed look.

"Smooth?"

Optimus hunched his shoulders indicating the sheepish expression he wore beneath his mask. "I admit that could have gone better."

" _Yes_,' Prowl agreed silently with and inward smile. _'It could also have been worse._'

"For his own good, Ah hope Ratch doesn' catch up wit' Warp." Jazz commented, still staring at the entrance and some ways in the distance three angry creators and a loop-the-looping Skywarp and packages.

"So far Skywarp has been undeterred by any threat and/or punishment Ratchet has managed to come up with." Prowl felt the amusement coming across the bond. Somehow, he wasn't too surprised himself.

"So the fliers are integrating well into the Ark then?" Prowl asked.

"Well, it was a little bumpy at the beginning. But it smoothed out."

"There's that word again," the black and white Datsun said flatly.

"Word?"

"Smooth. I am almost afraid to find what has gone on while we were away."

"Well...er," mumbled Optimus, when suddenly Starscream came into sight, strutting down the hallway, optics on his datapad. He looked up once to give a nod to the SIC and TIC, sharing a look with Optimus, and then proceeding to walk right past them. However, as he passed Optimus, his hand shot out and groped the Autobot leader's aft with a cheeky grin, before moving on. He disappeared behind a corner before Optimus could scold the incorrigible jet.

Jazz and Prowl stared in shock.

"Please...don't tell me Ah just saw what Ah saw," Jazz said, astonished.

"I'm about to have a processor crash," Prowl muttered, fighting his logic circuits.

Optimus's faceplates behind his mask got even redder as he tried to find some easy, logical way to explain it to both black and whites. "Well, you see...it's all mutual, and there's nothing...nothing but interfacing."

The two mechs stared at him as if he had grown an extra pair of heads.

"You...and Starscream...sharing a berth?" asked Prowl.

"Think of it as concreting ex-Decepticon and Autobot relations," the Prime broke in. This could go really bad, and fast.

"Damn, Prime. So, how is he?"

"Jazz!" hissed Prowl.

Optimus was very glad that he suddenly had an excuse to change the topic when Skywarp came barrelling in through the doors again, triplet-less and cackling as twin blurs of red and yellow chased after him down the hall. All three had literally needed to flatten themselves against the wall to avoid being run over. Ratchet followed at a much more sedated pace, still scowling but with all three of his sparklings trailing after him, each with wide smiles on their faceplates.

Jumpstart was the first to notice the black and whites. "Powl! Jass!" he squealed, launching himself gleefully at the Datsun and Porsche, quickly followed by his siblings.

"They missed you as well," Optimus chuckled, watching as each sparkling chose a limb to attach themselves to.

Jumpstart threw his arms around Prowl's neck happily, Speedlight gripping an arm, while Brightspark tapped on Jazz's visor in greeting. The black and white's attentions were drawn off topic, for which the Prime was grateful for. If only for now. He knew Jazz would be pressing for details, while Prowl would most likely try and skirt around the issue.

It brought him back to something he was wondering about. Like how Prowl was reacting to having the sparklings on him. Truthfully, Optimus had expected something a lot worse than the usually stoic tactician talking to the sparklings that had latched onto him. He had expected that Prowl would politely excuse himself so he wouldn't have to deal with seeing something that could have almost been his.

"I'm glad you two are back," Ratchet grumbled. "Can you believe the pranking that the twins have gotten away with ever since Prime's been shagging Starscream?"

'Damn you Ratchet!' the leader wanted to scream.

"Oh really?" Prowl asked, gaze narrowing.

Optimus did his best not to cringe under the intense stare. "I - uh - "

"And do NOT get me started on the fragging Seekers! Thundercracker is okay I suppose, but Skywarp is corrupting our own resident fliers! Air Raid actually SQUEALED yesterday!" Ratchet continued to rant and the Prime wondered if it would be a wise choice and tactically sound to retreat now.

"The Aerials?" Prowl asked, his tone sharp.

"Have practically been adopted by Thundercracker and Skywarp. After you approved the rights to monitor their schedules before you left." Prowl vaguely wondered if he had actually signed any such papers and then remembered that Starscream had shoved several in his face which he _had_ indeed signed before leaving without looking them over. He would have to go through just _what_he had allowed on the Ark in his and his bondmates absence. "I almost never see those mechlings unattended by at least one of them at a time!"

Well, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. The Aerialbots needed guidance.

"Apparently there are several things we must go over after our absence."

"Aww, Prowler! Can't it wait 'til Ah see everybody?" the saboteur whined.

At his bondmates whine, Prowl's features softened slightly and he sighed. "Today. That's it. The reign of the troublemaker ends tomorrow. For today...I just want to reacquaint myself with my quarters. Tomorrow I get back to work."

Jazz smiled brilliantly at the other black and white, cooing to Brightspark as she jabbered away at him.

Prowl smiled back, turning back to his rather nervous and embarrassing looking leader. Smugly, he said, "I expect that 'smoothly' includes you not keeping up on your paperwork?"

Actually feeling proud of his achievements in that respect, Optimus replied, "Not at all. They're all clear. I've had Starscream helping me deal with the workload ever since he firmly insisted he was more than just a sparkling sitter. He's been very informative and helpful. He also implemented a plan on how to tell the human authorities about he and his trine switching sides without any mention of the triplets."

"Thank Primus," muttered Ratchet, twirling his wrench idly.

"Helping is he Prime?" Jazz asked cheekily.

"Can I expect those datapads to be...clean? By the time they reach my desk?" Prowl mused aloud, joining in on his mate's game of embarrassing their leader. He was strangely not upset to have been proven wrong on his assertion in Hawaii that the thing between his leader and the ex-Con would be more than a onetime thing.

"Oh they better be clean." Ratchet grinned, the smirk looking positively evil. "Especially since I've had Starscream _and _Prime in my medbay more than a few times recently."

The squawk of indignation had all the mechs chuckling. Until the sparklings decided they wanted more attention from their recently returned Uncles. Speedlight leaned over in Prowl's hold to pat at Jazz's shoulder.

"Look! M' jus' like you, Jass! See!" The mechling jabbed at his own, new shiny visor he'd begged his carrier to install so he could look just like 'Big Brother Aid'.

"Ah'm seeing, mech! Must say it looks good on yah!" Jazz agreed, smiling widely. The dull pain from he and Prowl losing their sparkling reared its ugly head, before going away in the face of such innocence. No, they would never hold it against these adorable, innocent beings. He turned back to their carrier, who scowled.

"It better..." Ratchet growled. "The processor ache I had to put up with...!" He suddenly plucked all three of his sparklings from the Second and Third's grips and then set them on the floor. "Work and socializing is great, but neither of you are going anywhere until you get a check up! Into the medbay with you!" He paused thoughtfully. "Actually, while I'm at it, Optimus, in with you to- PRIME! GET YOUR AFT BACK HERE YOU FLITTER GLITCH!"

Prowl and Jazz began to laugh as Optimus taunted back and ran off. When an irate Ratchet turned to them, they both obediently followed him back to his lair...his medbay.

The twins were in the medbay, heated from chasing Skywarp, and they wordlessly took their offspring from Ratchet. The sparklings waved goodbye to the two returned commanders, who waved amiably back before following Ratchet's instructions and sitting on the berth for their check up.

Ratchet was silent as he worked, hooking up scanners to them. It was obvious he was in deep thought.

"Are you both well?" he asked finally.

Prowl and Jazz recognised his way of broaching such a delicate topic.

Jazz merely grinned his trademark cheeky grin and answered, "We're doin' just fine Ratch'. Better that fine. Just needed that time to let our sparks rest, but we're all good now. Dontcha worry 'bout us."

The medic scoffed, "It's my job to worry. Prime forgot to put it in the job description when I got promoted to CMO."

The remark even got Prowl to smirk as he patiently waited for the scanners to give he and Jazz the all clear. He felt the need to crawl back into his familiar quarters with his mate twined with him in recharge. Still, you never left until Ratchet said you did. Therefore, he was unconcerned when one of the scanners began to beep insistently. Ratchet went over to it, pressing buttons to reveal what it was alerting him to yet.

His expression rapidly changed from calm to shocked within seconds and he gaped at Prowl and Jazz, who now became worried.

"What have you found?" asked Prowl, concerned.  
><em><br>Clang!_

"OW!"

"And you!"

_Clang!_

"Oi! What was that for Ratch?"

"You oversexed black and white glitches! As if Prime and that Seeker don't give me enough processor aches already, I have to deal with you two being absolutely-!"

_Whap!_

"Why are you hitting me more than Jazz?" growled Prowl, ducking as the medic tried to grab his chevron.

Sighing, Ratchet calmed a little and asked, "Just how many times did you two sparkmerge?"

"I dunno," Jazz said, eyeing the wrench still being tightly gripped in the medic's hand warily. "Wasn't exactly keepin' count, doc."

Uh oh. An optic ridge twitched. Which meant something big was beginning to brew. Prowl wondered just how far Jazz had managed to dig their graves with the one statement. Pretty deep, judging by the fact that Ratchet was still being 'calm' when he spoke again.

"And I am to presume that means 'more than twice'."

"...Yes?"

The next thing either of the recently returned officers knew, their audios were ringing with the force of the cry of frustration that bounded and echoed off the walls of the almost completely empty medbay. Swoop and First Aid jumped where they had been quizzing each other in their corner and turned to stare at their mentor curiously. A sedated Wheeljack (who was still missing an arm and several fingers on the other hand from his latest project-gone-wrong) twitched, but otherwise remained completely unawares. The visiting Bluestreak had taken his cue to dodge behind his slumbering lover's berth... Just in case things decided to start flying.

"Frag you! Frag you and frag every fragging fragged fragger who can't tell their afts from their helms if their lives depended on it!"

"Lotta frags there, Ratch..." Jazz dared to comment, before he followed Bluestreak's example, only using his mate as cover instead of the berth, as a wrench came for his helm again.

"You have a problem with my cursing...?" the CMO said dangerously.

"Erm...no, not really Ratch...just keep going," Jazz deflected easily. He smiled a little. He didn't want the medic to be on his bad side right now. It was ruining his pleasant mood after helping Prowl overcome their difficulties. With the lost sparkling and all...

Ratchet glared at Jazz, before sighing heavily again. Here they go on another roller coaster ride.

"I hate to tell you this, but Jazz...you're sparked," Ratchet finally stated, face taking on its normal, neutral expression.

Prowl gaped at the medic, looking from the red and white mech to his mate, and then back again. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"That scanner was recalibrated a few days ago. Yes I am. Now we're going to have another sparkling to think about."

"Not that we weren't before," Jazz said quietly, in some sort of shock. Sure, he and Prowl had talked about trying for another soon, but not quite this soon. Reverently, he placed his hand over his spark and breathed in deeply. He felt worry and concern flow from Prowl to him, and he sent back pulses of calm. They would just have to re-prepare for another life yet again.

And slowly, but surely, a remarkable grin spread across the saboteur's faceplates and he turned to look at his bondmate .

"We get another chance, Prowler," he said breathlessly.

Prowl, for his part, was pretty much speechless. He had no idea how to react. On the one hand, he was ecstatic and wanted to jump for joy. On the other, he couldn't help but to feel a little bitter. In light of his bonded's joy, however, he immediately felt a wash of shame at the bitter feelings and squashed them ruthlessly down. A small, very happy smile lit his own face.

"We do, Jazz," he said quietly. "We do."

* * *

><p>Walking into their quarters was just as hard as they both thought it would be, but it was eased by the new joy of life revived. Prowl and Jazz took the things collected from their holiday out of subspace and arranged them around, giving a fresh feel to the rooms, numbing the reminder of the past tragedy; A driftwood set of chimes, the many pieces of sea shells and sea glass stored for the triplets when they wanted to play with them, a vibrant hibiscus blossom carefully preserved in glass.<p>

Once done, Prowl moved into the berth room, slowly trailing his hand along the wall. As he stared at the berth, he could see a faint stain from where he had laid there, crying.

"Don't dwell baby," Jazz said softly from behind.

The Praxian sighed, turning to embrace his mate and pulling him tight. "I'm sorry. It's hard for both of us. I am glad we have succeeded in sparking again."

The saboteur tilted his helm to the side, searching for truth. Finding it, he smiled. "Ya know, Ah feel like some serious cuddlin'."

Prowl frowned. "I thought you wanted to see everybody."

Jazz shrugged. "Yeah, but Ah got you. No one can ever measure up to that Prowler."

As the doorwings relaxed as they moved onto the berth, Jazz carefully hid his intentions. The rest was not for him, but for his mate. Prowl was tired from the recent emotional shocks. He, however, had some revenge to do. Opening up his comm. he contacted the one mech that he knew would be hungering for Shockwave's spark to be extinguished.

:-Starscream here. How are you and the sparkling Jazz?-:

Jazz smirked slightly. Of course. Seekers knew everything when it came to sparklings.

:-Good. Yourself?-:

:-Content. I am about to give Optimus a message from Soundwave. Do you want me to convince him to send us on our...ah..little mission?-:

:-If ya can. And if not, Plan B is ready?-:

:-Yes. See you on the roof afterwards if so.-:

Jazz, smirked a bittersweet version of his normally cocky grin which was hidden from his mate's view as he tucked Prowl's helm under his chin.

All that was left was to play the waiting game.

* * *

><p>Jazz smiled at his mate, the exhausted mech lying on their berth with a peaceful look on his faceplates in recharge. The poor mech had been on an emotional roller-coaster this month and he deserved the rest. But, Primus, how he hated not telling the tactician about the plans he and Starscream had exchanged on their way back from Hawaii, but he knew that if Prowl knew, then there was no way he would have been going, Master Spy or not.<p>

He double checked his equipment to make sure that he had everything he needed and was just finishing up when he got a ping from Starscream.

He opened the private channel. :- Yo, Screamer. We good to go?-:

:- Yes, and I suggest you hurry. We have exactly two point four breems before either Hatchet, Red Alert or my trine realize we're up to something.-:

:- Had to implement plan B, huh?-:

:- Prime is a soft sparked fool. Sometimes I wonder if he even remembers that we are at war.-: Even through the sneer, the saboteur caught the tone of affection lacing each word.

:- Well, I'm on my way and I'll be there in a third of that time. -: he assured, leaning down to kiss his mate's chevron before rushing from their room.

He met the proud Seeker on top of the volcano the Ark was buried under, and couldn't help but notice the flier's subdued manner in the way he turned, nodding at him and merely following his instruction. It had been part of their deal that Starscream follow everything he said, lest they be deactivated.

Jazz could only hope that he wouldn't have to come back to base alone.

Activating the jet pack he 'borrowed' from a kind helm finned inventor, Jazz nodded to Starscream who turned on his own thrusters. They rose into the sky, quiet, their minds filled with the mission they had put together through sparse comm. conversations. Their supplies were ready, their will set.

The saboteur let the sight of the stars lull him to a sense of peacefulness as they flew to the space bridge, thinking about the spark resting inside him. He was endangering it by going on this mission.

But this was a war. He didn't want to have a sparkling at all if it meant Shockwave was still living. It was only worse.

For Prowl. For himself. And for their unborn sparkling and for their extinguished one. He was going to have that mech's energon coat his hands one way or another.

As if reading his mind, Starscream murmured from beside him, "Here we go. Showtime."

The space bridge came into sight and both their resolves hardened into steel.

There was no going back now.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ohmigosh! Due to a bit of writers block on our part, it was a bit longer than we would have liked in coming to you, but here it is! I hope you liked it, and personally, my favourite scene is the one where Prowl 'buries' his sparkling. I get teary eyed just reading it over. **

**Please review! Katea and I love the feedback.**


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